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In our village our grief is the mountain vast and enduring and my uncle is the river set free flowing and flowing the reason for all that is green and growing and growing

Stop trying to fix me, she tells me I'm trying to help you, I yell simultaneously as if the difference doesn't matter years later she haunts me and my anger comes easily. looking for divine clarity, I demand the moon absolve me: teach me to see now what I know tomorrow. teach me, and heal me. and I find in my years no celestial reprieve just regret old bones and grey hairs.

Fizzing and hissing inside me all the time but I make my left foot obey my right move both arms and move air in and out just right create that synergy but it's no harmony because my mind deceives my eyes and my heart burns my soul and you tell me I like it.

One orange-blue evening, there is a stillness and a clarity that allows me to really breathe and so I sit and I seethe. I meditate on you and him and her, and everyone we know, and like a good girl, I hold it in, I hold it in, I hold it in and I take a deep breath in, hold for two, long exhale, fuck you fuck you fuck you suddenly the clouds roll in there's a crack of thunder someone screams and I smile. - The Witch

I didn't lose my breath when all the hope was suffocated out of me. I didn't see double or drop to my knees when giving up was getting up and kicking me down. I stayed standing straight and I kept looking real clearly at the path stretching in front of me, it was slick and glistening like a sharp jewel - I knew it'd hurt but I knew I'd keep walking.

and sometimes I do wonder, in my darkest of nights, if we all contain multitudes - why is everyone I meet just another version of you?

I put my love in a boat let it drift down a sea of regret and apology, in search of new land, fertile soil, and opportunity so I might feel the pulsating heat and reverberating beat of the stop-start of a failing heart just one more time.

It's a Sunday and you're perfect and I don't know why you bother it's some kind of torture to be such a people pleaser but never please anyone, you know you could give up the game take the Lord's name in vain throw rocks and eat dirt run through glass bleed a mess and still feel the same.

Pregnant like a pause, not like a woman, and the distinction is important, because even though I am full with potential and I will labour with pain I will never bear fruit.

I, longing for meat, am consoled by marrow. Teeth sharpened on bone, unrecognisable to ones who feast, I chew on my dreams digest my hope and try to answer you when you ask me "don't you want more?"

what would I do with happiness but interrogate its existence and suspect its motives? some days, i think i could break happiness and other days, i know i already did.

Like the liquid gold of honey and mango she reflects in sunlight, brown and bodied. I taste the sweetness of her promise and swallow her resolve. One day, I am twenty-four, and she tells me "I have nothing more" and I spend the rest of my life asking her "what for?" Thinking of my mother today.

What could have been is my favourite fever dream I like to stand in the grief and remind myself I too could have been and I was meant to be.

I remember home where the crescent moon hangs and nostalgia waxes as heartache wanes the tides push and pull and I taste the salt from undulating waves and rolling tears and know not the difference between me and sea Feeling a little homesick today <3

I feel like I'm on fire and you're asking me out to tea it's ash at dusk and black rain days I taste the flames and you ask me about the weather how are the kids and is that a new sweater and I have to wonder will I ever stop burning?