Leaning into my softness is living with ease, without friction.

             Authenticity
                       Liberation
                                Reflection
                                        Surrender

The ability to submit without being subsumed.

Rest and softness are for ME. 
Defined and embodied by ME.
MY deserved birthright.

Appreciated, embraced, lived out loud.

What does softness look like for YOU? What steps can you take to embrace it?

Photo Credit, Nancy E. Lewis

Brewing coffee always brings mama back
Steamy, spice-scented notes, proclaiming percolated pleasures to come
I loved the fragrance and mindfully steeped hers every morning
But it wasn’t our journey to share mugs while she was here

As always, I sense her loving presence
Guiding this sacred daily ritual

Her tools—fresh beans, grinder, slow drip concoctions
My tools—pour over, French press, moka pot magic
Our recipe—straight Black with a dash of cinnamon

That first sip, liquid smoldering richness
Soothing, yet energizing all at once
Nostalgia and bliss in hand-thrown ceramics
Satisfaction rippling through every cell

Now ready for the day.

I don’t always slow down and lean into the “why” of my daily tasks, but I’m getting better at it. When you reflect on your mundane activities, what rituals do you have that bring fond memories of an ancestor?

Photo credit, Nancy E. Lewis

How deeply inside myself can I go to find myself, inside myself?

     The labyrinth of time — twisting, turning, no end….

             BUT

                   Clarity — the predestined answers I sought, revealed.

       Deeply inside myself, I find myself.

                    The self I was always seeking.

Photo by Dmitry Bayer on Unsplash

We lay in that slippery, sweet, funky
After Sex Heaven
Sheets awry
Limbs entangled

Lazily tracing invisible hearts across my breast
Inhale/exhale, shallow pant
Wanton whispers into my neck
Finger tips stroke — tickle — graze the slick of your spine

Again we move in sync
Wet heat desire lifts — ebbs — lifts
Once, twice, oooh, oh not three

Finally spent, we slumber

What do I love about being Black?

I love our ingenuity and innovation. Making beauty from castoffs.

I love how we love on each other.

I love how we find the ability to laugh in circumstances meant to bring us pain.

I love how we have a separate language so special that others try to steal it at the same time they are downing us for it.

I love how we create our own spaces rather than begging for seats at unwelcoming tables.

I love our persistence and resilience. We not only survived, but managed to thrive through enslavement, Jim Crow, redlining, lynching, DEI rollbacks……

I love how we overcome legislation put in place to keep us down and out.

I love the support I feel from unknown sisters and brothers across the room, when we are the only ones there who look like us.

I love how we celebrate ourselves.

I love how we come together as a village for our children.

I love how we demonstrate joy in our laughter, dance and song.

I love the unspoken, yet acknowledged, sense of fellowship that brings us together no matter what.

This is dedicated to members who have supported and encouraged me in ways you don’t even know. Not naming individuals because I ain’t trying to tussle!!