freedom

on to the next

the next page

the next stage

it’s like having your hair in braids for months,

it’s constrained but protected, and you can feel the new growth coming in

those lil baby curls

you play with them when you’re stressed, 

daydreaming about how big your fro will be when you can finally free yourself from those chains

braids

sometimes you need help to get through them all, sometimes you have to cut them short before you start

sometimes, sometimes, everything’s so conditional

but freedom is delicious

a process, but delightful

the braids come out, but there’s still the gunk that built up at the roots

the chains come off, but there’s still the dents that dug in at your wrists

you need clarity

look at reality

look at it, really

the gunk

the dents

this is where you were before you were free

(completely unrelated, but I am so happy)

(I never write happy poems)

don’t let it scare you

you’re free now

so clarify, wash the gunk out of your roots

massage your wrists, smooth the dents out

then play with your curls

yes, use your hands

your freedom

you’re at the next stage

on the next page

on to the next

4.1.19

Continue reading “freedom”

a quartet, and a question

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​ Last night, I performed my poetry for the first time. I’ve actually been writing for over five years, but my first true poem was about Cheerios (I’m easily inspired; don’t judge). Still, if you would’ve told me that I’d end up on stage, not singing with my a cappella group, not receiving an award, but reciting my poetry? I would’ve laughed in your face. For at least five years, that’s exactly what I did. I’d push back at every nudge towards a platform, nervous and nauseous at the thought of feeling so exposed. But growth is a never-ending journey, and last night, a new bud bloomed on the tree of my life.

Continue reading “a quartet, and a question”