Photo by Diliara Garifullina on Unsplash

Thankfully, everything comes to an end. The bitter drowning over and the birthday-cake sweet glee.

I have to remind myself — permanence is a myth.

Safety an illusion.

Stillness a perception.

Love a gift.

Friendship an honor.

Silence a response.

Mercy an opportunity.

Healing eventual.

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Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

I ended Yaa Gyasi’s “Homegoing” in the same staff break room I started it in.

I haven’t written in a while. I think I’ve felt an inward pausing that’s prompted me to stay silent even though my thoughts are scratching to come out of my own head. I thought about writing when I was washing the dishes, when I was cleaning up on slow Saturday afternoons, when I felt things I could not articulate to myself, when I stopped praying, when I started praying again, when I was weepy and slept most days, when things went numb and eventually gained feeling again. Throughout all of it, I’ve been punishing myself by not writing or only writing here and there. Seldom explaining me to myself.

Originally written in March 2019

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A Black woman in yellow!

A star on the street.

A dark, Black woman yellow?

Stop to stare and say, “saaaaaawweeeeeeeet”

A Black woman in yellow!

A color match made to meet.

For years, I shyed away from a closet of anything yellow. I didn’t want to draw anymore attention to the hue of my skin so I hid behind neutral tones, greys, and blacks. Until a friend in college told me how my skin glowed in yellow.

Now I jump to wear yellow for the little girl afraid to.

A dark Black woman in yellow is a dauntless act of allowing two colors meant for one another to meet as much as they can.

A Black woman in yellow!

Like sweet music from a swinging band.

Image from Pinterest

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