Still I Can Smell the Cesspool

Ancestors, we are winning despite how things may appear or feel. That our disappointments must be the source of our inspiration. That our lives are not defined by the problems we face.⁣

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Still I can smell the cesspool. All this really stinks. Thick air. Children in cages. Women groomed as little girls to never tell. Holding her brothers box of ashes with bare hands. White folk moving into the only hoods our black skin ever touched. ⁣

⁣No time. No space for us to grasp or grip or grieve, yet we breathe, we hold you in high regard. Always. We know your truth leads our way. Rest in love and light to all those that have surrendered their breath. Thank you for this bit of peace you left behind. ⁣

—TheeAmazingGrace

⁣#afrikanface #ancestorsspeak #ancestorssongs #girlrillavintage #mendewoman #mercuryretrograde #moondaymeditation #peace #pms #roothealer #selfiecorner #sierraleone #tbm #theeamazinggrace #westafrican #worldview

Moonwalking: Mercury In Retrograde

I been here before. Moonwalking lol! ⁣

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This mercury in retrograde is happening during eclipse season y’all through the end of July. A thought, go slow, go inward. Align all your faculties with matters of the heart. Maintain healthy boundaries. Be your truth!

-TheeAmazingGrace

#afrikanface #ancestortones #blackmoon #celestialbody #celestialhealing #dontfrontyouknowigotyouopen #eyesthatcommit #girlrillavintage #healthylove #love #mendewoman #mercuryretrograde #moonglow #roothealer #sierraleone #theeamazinggrace ⁣#westafrican

Sappy Tree Root

Take a breath. Life is beautiful. The weeds, flowers, sunshine, our perfect hearts. The sensation of skin touching. Fresh and supple and together. Deep. Slow sex in the morning. Footsies. These are just moments. And in-betweens. And I just want to never stop loving like my life depends on because well my life does depend on it. ⁣

—TheeAmazingGrace

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#afrikanface #afrikanheritage #ancestors #blackjoy #blacklove #blackisbeautiful #changeisbeautiful #footsies #girlrillavintage #glow #ilovefeet #isaidthat #mende #nature #redsun #roothealer #sappytreeroot #sierraleone #sunshine #smiles #solopeace #soul #theeamazinggrace #tag #westafrican #westphilly

The sting of betrayal

I think the easiest thing after a betrayal by someone we love is to question the validity and worth of ourselves in comparison to the betrayal. When in reality our worth isn’t tied up into anyone, but ourselves. That the betrayal likely started long before these moments. The betrayal might’ve been why we left in the first place. I found out on social media that a person I was recently romantically involved is getting married.

I’m sharing this because my heart is hurt. My heart is not hurt because they’re getting married. My heart is not hurt because I’m not happy for them. My heart is not hurt because I want to be in a relationship with them. My heart is hurt because I didn’t hear it from them. My heart is hurt because I thought so highly of this person. My heart is hurt because of the nature of our friendship, how intentional we were to remain. My heart is hurt because we respected each other. My heart is hurt because they didn’t grant me the opportunity to celebrate them. My heart is hurt because up until now we’ve been gently and lovingly transparent about EVERYTHING, even when it hurt.

For anyone feeling the sting of betrayal today, know that it has nothing to do with you. Know that our lives will go on, will thrive just as they always have. Know that we are enough during this transformative time. I recall my umi’s words, “We can wallow in self-pity for a little while, just don’t stay there”. We’re responsible to forgive the betrayal of ourselves for this person. We gotta create the closure we need. Take time and space.

In love and kindness, wishing them all the best.

—Grace

Rest in power Stanlee Allyn Holbrook

Stanlee’s death affects me deeply because so many black women and mothers aren’t given any love, support or breaks in this cruel world. We are left to our own everything. I think of my mother who had died an emotional death that she never recovered from long before she died physically.

My heart is broken today. A young mother of three completed suicide in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania two days ago. We all have a painful tune we carry. No one is exempt from a pain like this, the thought, a memory.

I took a mental health first aid course earlier this year. Most of the people in the class including myself used the term ‘committed suicide’ when recalling stories. However, as the instructor described that using the verb ‘commit’ when followed by an act is generally reserved for actions that many people may view as sinful or immoral. Someone commits burglary or murder or rape or perjury or adultery or crime or something else bad.  Suicide is sad, for those left behind yes, but the person who completes suicide is not committing a crime or sin. Rather the act of suicide almost always is the product of mental illness, intolerable stress, or trauma.

Though taboo we need more love in this world. More love. ❤️

#afrikanface #blacklivesmatter #blackmothersmatter #mentalhealthisreal #noshameinmentalillness #ripstanleeallynholbrook #weneedmorelove

Love don’t always taste familiar by Theeamazinggrace

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Bare. Vulnerable. I think of the many hands these thighs have touched. How my heart wrapped around a lover and then again. How my body and spirit poured into theirs. Reflecting on many of my past loves. How many seemed to carry that ole “familiar” love language. How our vibrations crashed into each other. Enamored. Wowed. That love could taste so sweet. Comforted knowing we’d been here, together before. How they took bits and pieces of my soul instead of my whole self. How depleted I felt at times. Like the euphoric feeling you get when you know someone you just met. Past lives ain’t always been kind. How that familiar feeling held me hostage, long after each relationship ended. The scars I’m still healing from just staying in it.

I’m learning that familiarity don’t always taste good. It doesn’t always mean lasting love. Healthy love. I realize that what is often familiar in a relationship stems from deep past experiences from our first human examples of what love looked like. Asking, what were some of the first examples of love we witnessed back then. In the grand plan, it might very well be the thing that kept us connected, comfortable, stuck, on edge, bitter, scared, terribly insecure, questioning our gut feelings, staying even when the relationship was killing us. How we didn’t choose to save ourselves the first time we became unrecognizable to ourselves, after the damage had been done.

Given some of my past romantic relationships, I correlated when new lovers reminded me of people, places and things from my past to “red flags” that were bright and bleeding, early on, but how I stayed anyway. I thought I could change them, or wait for them to change themselves. And I do recognize that familiarity or the “soul mate connection” isn’t always a negative thing. However, I think its worth exploring why we feel so strongly toward a person in the first place. Also, how important it is to sort out where that all comes from before diving head first into loves ocean floor. Familiarity don’t always equal happiness or longevity and could very well be a warning sign, pathway to a toxic experience or ending, a breading ground for excuse making, settling, domestic violence, or staying longer than we should, just to say we have someone that we believe we know better than themselves.

However, coming across this new interest is dope because they don’t remind me of anyone else. The irony is wild to me that I don’t recognize anything in them from any of my past loves. And while exciting is damn scary. And maybe that’s the jewel? Maybe that’s something I needed to experience this side of things? I tended to gravitate to familiar traits in people that were clearly toxic because parts of me were toxic too. Maybe it’s what I knew best of all. At any rate returning to the place where I hurt in them delayed my healing. I needed to transform my ability to make better choices for the healing I deserved.

I’m not going to lie, this new energy makes me uneasy, questioning, reserved. I can’t for-see where we’ll go. Could that be the difference? Makes me want to run. Got me searching for ways to count them out like their hands not being the shape I like lol! Yet, my heart knows better. I’ve learned to love with a filter over my heart now. I take my time. I don’t put all of my energy into “good feelings” alone. I feel my way through cautiously. I allow them to show me their power and grace. I allow them to pour into me all the love I give away. Loving this way is a new beginning in my life. A new opportunity to create a healthier frame of reference for my future. A new place to call home.

I’m Sunflowers Sista By TheeAmazingGrace

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Imagine pullin’ into an empty parking space 

and totalin’ your car

Well das Me… 

Wrecked. Totaled. 

This elephant, remembers everything in its room. 

Feels more like I been beaten. Mercilessly., 

Wit’ wooden bats. By vengeful 

spirits from my ancestors past lives. 

I’m aging. 

So my bones done become more rigid. 

I fracture more easily. 

Bruise more easily. 

Tears well up. 

I cry out more easily. 

Smells. Sounds. Buck toothed smiles. Flamboyant death drops. 

All ignite my senses. 

And my soul becomes clean when I cry. 

‘Cause crying is one of my healing rituals. 

Yet, ain’t no healing this shit. 

I’m exactly where my brother left me. 

On that uncommonly, cold, November 26th, dark street. 

Had just spent all day working,  

only to get home to cook food for a tortured friend. 

Dished out larger slices of homemade sweet potato pie. 

How bitter the taste.

I remember, as we sipped apple cider along side it. 

How? 

How bout the scene was loose with change. 

And

Fresh newspapers strewn about the floor. 

I can still smell the dead trees, 

the moment they told me my baby brother had died. 

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Ran ALL out of myself. 

Slid cross the floor on coupon adds. 

Jumpin’ out of my skin wasn’t far enough 

to get away from this. 

The silence was so DAMN loud. 

Louder than my screams and desperate PLEASE. 

PLEASE! DON’T SAY THIS IS TRUE.

And the silence played tricks. 

The silence was so heartless. 

The silence acted like a fuck boy. 

And wailing. 

Wailing that hard only made my nose bleed. 

Snot, mixed with blood m, and tears, froze to my face. 

The mood was below 20 degrees. 

No comfort. No crab legs. No fried wings. 

No whisky. No heating pads. No yams. No deep dick. 

No coochie grinds. No meditation. No cunnilingus. 

No flailing arm dances. No deep talks. No nothing. 

Not even self-soothing. No selfies. No usies.  

No god. No nothing could prepare me for losing my brother. 

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My baby brother.

Second born. 

My sunflower. 

Smile as big as a sunflower. 

And he loved to eat the seeds. 

And I love him beyond forever. 

Sunflowers senseless loss of life. 

Bullet to head while he sat in the

comfort of his own bed. 

And I remember the blood on his pillow. 

And how I clinched it. 

And tho’ he’s right here. 

And won’t leave from right here. 

I still feel pain right here. 

Hard to breathe sometimes. 

Replaying his last words 

as he looked to the edge of his bed, “Mama.” “Mama?“

Thank you mama, for waiting. 

And tastin’ his ashes pushed me to the edge of space. 

Made us feel close again. 

And I don’t wish for time y’all. 

I wish for the world to love as hard as we loved 

with no healthy examples of how to love.  

How our love language STRETCHED. 

IS etched into my skin, over deep contusions LEFT BEHIND.

Embedded beneath my bare breast bone, on the left side. 

How I cant tell our scars apart or our sleepless melodies. 

However, the wind grows me just a little, each day. 

My big sunshine face, travels in the wind. 

My Phoenix arose from the dust. 

My baby brother flows in my DNA. 

He is in the water too. 

Mama Oshun. Bless baby brother with your rivers honey. 

Mama Yemayah. Please nestle us both, in the safety of your oceans back bone. 

Thank you for your sanctity. 

For being a home. 

Always.

—TheeAmazingGrace

I’m Sunflowers Sista shareable audio with music by The Nest Collective’s Walk to Tawaret. Thank you for listening.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1v1Jho0Vm5x3B6sWqUgdJsMUMdEYHs4KL/view?usp=sharing

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