Oftentimes in winter, I can’t help but cry. I feel like I lose as much as the amount of snow the diminished by melting salt, snotty snowballs, and loud machines that sweep it away to clear for gaudy cars and the dismay of the holidays. I feel often, unseen— I feel often un-wanting to be seen. I thought this morning to write a poem of my pains, at the very least— I want to write once again.
An old poem of mine called “Mother to world” by me, today I wanted to know — Do you feel like you are were ready to leave childhood behind? Do you feel like it’s still a part of your life?
Personally I think there’s an inner child within us always because we never stop growing. I do wish we changed the narrative of what adulthood means in terms of responsibility — we are still allowed to make mistakes. Everyone is ready for that next step but not for what society defines it as.
Happy Black History Month! As a black woman, I value using my voice with no shame. I hope you raise the voices of your BIPOC this month and so on!
Art: @ninholl
