findtheowl

3

We dance. Around emotion, obstacle, spectacle & importance. We dance around acknowledgement. To consistently find ourselves in the waltzing twist of such a rhythmless ballad is to realize why the pocket is never something we fear being too large for. Since infinite universes have taught themselves to be confined within ten-inch squares, newly ripped seams ought not be met with vexation. I cried last Wednesday, rolling myself into a descent of sickness only to find impotent novocaine at the bottom of the hill. It wasn’t perChance that Jesus’ Black life ain’t matter. I can only be so holy for so long; see in these words I write the tears that fell e'en further. It was only two minutes after, in the wake of a torrent beneath my brow, that I remembered my ears. I remembered because I found myself dancing again. Moving to the song of reasons why we matter. Arching my back to the subdivisions in injustice. Crouching as I wondered, will I be next? And if I am, will I have done enough by then? I pray I won’t be another hashtag. My hope is for busyness to be outweighed by purpose. May we cease to blend in. May we cease to be ignored. May our dance be revered. May this sun set on the final injustice. May we one day soon achieve Zero Problems.
P.S.: Thanks Neil Degrasse Tyson, for helping us remember just how special a sunset can be.
@blackballerinas

@neildegrassetysonofficial

@chancetherapper

Where to begin? First off, it’s May 7th, so before it is no longer and it becomes the 8th, let me just say #myhairisnotatrend. It really isn’t. May the rest of 2016 and my life include greater health and care for it. That said, I’ve been quiet for a while, largely because I’ve been tested much of this past month, from many angles. Such tests came chiefly from requirement, as much has been given to me. Much also has begun to die away in my life, from the physical through the immaterial. Shedding – quite like hair, it seems – is mandatory for growth. If you’ve been anywhere near my inner circle, you know the details more intimately. For the rest, I hope that many of the messages I’ve habitually conveyed have continued to reign as true for you as they have been increasingly for me. Sometimes, talking to yourself is healthy. Keep your head up. Tomorrow is full of gifts that we need to keep our eyes peeled and hands open for, which will prove difficult to do if we remain occupied by the woes of the past. Cheers, everyone. Really. Cheers.