writers block

My fingers tingle.  My heart raises an emotion that can only be described by the name of an author, the title of a book, the poem I hate to love and a quote that cut so deep, rang so true and knocked the wind right out of me.

“Warsan shire.

Teaching my mother how to give birth

Excuses For Why We Failed At Love

‘I’m a lover without a lover.

I’m lovely and lonely.

I belong deeply to myself .’”

I am compelled.

My vocabulary falls short,The sentences don’t quite make sense, I don’t recognize this voice…

My tongue has forgotten every language that has ever danced pass my lips

Yet I am compelled.

Not express myself but to be understood.

And my body revolts

This body has access to muscle wisdom, generational and ancestral wisdom.The very breath of uNkhulunkhlu

It knows that I am enough.

It knows  it is enough to simply be.



As I am.

It is enough.


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