Black Cotton

I got out of the car and walked across the field. The best way I can describe the feeling is for you to imagine all of the blackness between every star wrapping itself around our bodies like a heavy, warm blanket. Melanin matter aligned ALL of my chakras the instant. I wept. I kneeled. I was humbled to my knees. I took deep ujjayi breaths. Channeling the ocean like sounds for love, for forgiveness. Endless landscape stretched like a deep abyss on that back Alabama dirt road. Spirits. My ancestors. Their ancestors hovered over my body. Sankfoa. I could hear and see all types of painful things. Pain. I could see and feel freedom-deep within their eyes, although shackled in body, never in mind. I could feel the triumph. I could feel my sneakers sinking deep into the moist red clay beneath. Took 25 minutes to pick 12 seeds. Fingers split open-bleeding. I felt the calm-weight lift from my back bone the day my ancestors invited me to pick black cotton. ⁣


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