Our bodies were made to hold the truth
like vessels of transport from one generation to the next
You are a truth, amiga. Your existence is mighty resistance.
On the syllables of root words inherited from the fall./ In the history books you rewrote with your existence./ Story begins where we dare
I’m used to being let down. I’m used to looking at myself through the lens of other women, instead of resting in the promise that I am fearfully and wonderfully made. When I look at another woman, I must know and feel, that she too is fearfully and wonderfully made.
Hope looks like an unexpected welcome.
Do I accept the world in all of its fury, despair, and appetite without also accepting the tranquility, affection, and harmony that stands at my doorstep when I walk outside to breathe in its life? Do I receive all the life and grace God extends to me in my calloused palms?
Support is much more than what we can buy. We can no longer buy our way out of guilt. We can no longer place money where we should place boundaries. Support is showing up and assisting the mending of our clipped wings or the clipped wings of our family and friends.
The plastic bag gets caught on the spike
because we haven’t replaced what separates us