Have you ever been in love? I mean really, truly, deeply in love? I don’t just mean the simplicity in being in love with a person, it can be with any thing, any one, any art.
I started the week somehow wondering about and trying to find the meaning in love. What is it that I love? Do I love myself? How? Just how do I love myself?
I write every day. I find the time at some point in my day to write, dance and sing at some point in my day if only for a minute and I find that I’m a little bit more whole when I do those things. So am I in love with them? Have I found just what speaks to my spirit at the basest of levels?
I keep writing and maybe it’s poetry, maybe it’s not. Is it a combination of thoughts running wild and something that looks like poetry…reminiscence…familiarity of words and progressions of phrases.
I just keep writing.
Telling my story.
Living my truth.
But is my story resonant?
Do I even care, much less anyone else?
How do I do what I wanna do?
How can I blaze this trail?
Am I failing?
But maybe I’m just beautiful and I need to accept that
Why am I pushing back?
What’s that about?
Today, I received a note card, from Indigenous womxn that I admire. Indigenous Women Rising, yes. This is for you. It made me think about collective and family and how it is that I connect to others. What is it that your energy does when you walk in a space? Knowing your internal and external power. Is truth. How do you support others, each other, each self?
And indigenous womxn like Rachael, Malia & Nicole, and Kat taught me acceptance in even the parts of myself that I didn’t know. As i learned and searched, they embraced me in sisterhood and I am forever grateful.
There was a time when I thought I might be pregnant and I wondered
What will my daughter/son/child think if they read my words one day and wonder about what kind of person I am/was/wont to be.
Will I be alive then to explain my words, my wholeness, my feelings, my displacement.
Will they remember the power in their ancestry
Will I be there to welcome them in to medicinehood?
In the blackness
In to the NDN experience
In the case of displacement
In my present indianhood
How am I supposed to exist without existing?
When what marks my non-existent self with invisibility
I am not supposed to be
Yet here I am
Strong and centered in the learning of my
Indian woman who is seen
I see here and say “Hello/Aquinee”
And in the case of healing
I’ve been masturbating every day with thoughts of healing
Taking my body back
With silvery sweetness and thoughts of love
Everything I feel a lil more whole like I massaged my center of gravity.
Massage yourself back to life and remember that this world may want to kill you and maybe it will succeed
But how much will you live?
What’s your story?