Reformed Sad [ex]Girl Saved by Flowers

There once was a girl

And she watch a strong beautiful Black single mama fight through the world, lots of invisible battles 

So that she could get a widdle giant townhouse in a land called 

Windzor

And this girl didn’t know how much energy, strength, resilience, community, MONEY, it took to fight those battles.

But on some level she knew it was expected that someday she’d be a great fighter, just like her mom.

But… she wasn’t.

She was messy, anxious, confused, most of the beginning. 

Rose colored glasses, they’d say, but her’s were more like light purple, 

A beacon of hope.

And she was so hopeful.

Small moments where she was so hopeful, she was confused at others distressed

Why would an 11 year old girl with money in her hand be allowed to be searched by some ice rink manager over a suspected candy bar, that she wouldn’t have taken, because she’s allergic to chocolate. 

She was so hopeful, that it was a finite group of people, ice rink worth of people, that she never went back to the ice rink.She sometimes wonders if it closed?

She was so hopeful she never expected so many of the things that hit her, scared her deeper than the soft outer tissue, 

Bolder than the puffed up herring she represented on softball teams.

She was losing her hope, developing a sort of.. Sadness .. about her.

Instruments she loved, she could be found sleeping on in orchestra. 

Ensembles she fought for, felt, hollow. 

When she was shell of herself, she crossed through the veil for the first time.

To be young and crazy … is to be free in a way.

Danced with the veil throughout her sad sad twenties

Moments of full lost-ness, rage-ness, change driven twenties

Still, sad…yet

A little less girl

They impulsively say yes to a job that takes them into the country

Where they trade one labor for another, but learn the magical healing powers of…plants. 

Stumbling upon a curious (white) woman who studies chinese medicine, with dried crickets and the ability to afford a backyard building for her practice.

There is a thought -

I can grow plants!

I started with arugula, a salad garnish I enjoyed. 

I threw a bunch of seeds in a multi pod starter and put that on top of the firewood heater in the airbnb I stayed in.

As the arugula grew, I grew…

I learned about local Black Farmers, I learned about the history of Caribbean and Indigenous farming. 

I grew.

Still, a little sad, I wandered into the eyes of a curious Kira on new years eve,

She found me through facebook the next eve. 

With the sweet-pushy-aries duo, I explored more vegetables, something I would have proudly denied enjoying the years before.

I grew more Arugula, learned to separate the seeds, 

I grew lettuce, basil, sage, and

Morning glory. 

My first flower

Flow-y , like the waterfalls I’d visit years, anniversaries, before and ahead.

Flow-y, like the rings and loops in my journey.

Flowers sprout as it wraps itself around my bookshelf, all I offered was water and a little direction.

Pods open and remind me my journey is long, but there are beautiful flowers along the way

Shades of blue, purple, pink,

The tones of the glasses I needed to remove

Growing for nutrition taught me the value of taking care of myself

What you put in is what you get out

What you take in and what you let out

Flowing, with flowers, taught me the beauty in my own time

Taught me that i am allowed to develop in stages, follow my own path, and that that process can be beautiful, boring, and bossly all allowed. 

So now, we’re not that girl

We ate her, we took her in, listened to every moment she was silenced, hold her where she needs to be held, we let out all that she needed to release.

We’re not that sadness, 

We’re deeper, we’re cuts, wounds, bandagges, poultice, body oils, incense,

We’re sadness wrapped in happiness, wrapped in love, wrapped in patience, wrapped in abolition, wrapped in love and love and love. 

We have been reformed,

Remade, remasked, reimagined

By flowers, soil, earth stewards, and speakers..

By my practice.