August is coming to a bittersweet end as leaves begin to crunch and I cram last minute beach trips with my sisters into my calendar. Cardigans and hoodies are revived from the back of closets as nights get cooler. Being in love seems more complex when the sun decides to seduce us with ephemeral rays, almost as if it is testing our hearts, waiting to see if we will burn bright until next summer.
Nevertheless, I have been learning, preparing, looking and listening. I have come to adore the quiet moments when I can recline peacefully with my paperbacks or notepads in hand, those moments when I can spend hours reading and reviewing poetry, especially that of Afro-American women. Nourishment is received with humility and gratitude as I diligently note the stanzas, proverbs, and new terms that leave me with transformational realization. My most recent trip to the Assateauge Island shoreline in Northern Maryland reminded me that I am worthy of every drop of love, sisterhood, mercy, grace, renewal, release and JOY that I receive.
Since my return, I've been catching myself dancing in the mirror to my own vibrant, wave-like, cerebral rhythms.
Enjoy my thoughts beloved!
(Free Verse)
Unique terrain, yes white sand
Who would have thought that we would find that only hours away?!
Road trips & the ocean
Sisters & heartbeats
Waves & love
Views of breathtaking vastness
Nipsey blue skies
Rolling weed, cruise control on for winding rolling hills that rarely see sisters with these hips
Finally at the shoreline
Sand between my toes
Horses live their best unbothered life here,
Stallions in this era are inevitable but African depth & African beauty on display is rare
We brought champagne
For cheers
To toast
You don't feel that heavenly breeze?
If no one's looking I'll try to kiss it back
Relax
Rest
Release
Body at ease, inhabited with peace
Listening
Breathing
Glowing
Being
We brought yellow watermelon for Oshun
Timing is important, we picked the perfect day to hear her sing
She splashes us with purpose
We are comforted by Yemeja,
Mami Wata never lets her daughters float too far away
So I offered her cowry shells in my hair, on my purse, and on my vest
She let me read my beach books
And listen to our beach songs
She let us take pictures of and with her
We made the sun jealous,
We made memories from the purest joy.
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