words, as fruit.
a digital journal authored by ẹniafẹ isis adewale
Respite’s Breast…
This morning, a car drove down the block and I overheard the crooning voice of erykah badu, “I’ll call you back”, and my heart dropped down into my breath…
i’m a feeler, and i cry (a lot).
Feeling is a gift that I sometimes want to return. Lately I find myself cursing feeling, and then taking the curses back. My cursing is really because of the hideousness of all this “greatness”…
beginning…again (i left substack)
“I think that freedom ideally is being able to choose your responsibilities. Not, not having any responsibilities, but being able to choose which things you want to be responsible for.”
Toni Morrison
Mirrors & Windows
As I move these words from a place where the heart and mind meet, and thought forms and flows out from pen to page and then page gets transcribed into digital form, I am listening to the voices of Lucille Clifton and Sonia Sanchez vibrate out from the television.
Empty Page
Words are like an empty page. Even as they bare themselves, openly, ready, willing for you to savor them, words ask for nothing from you but welcome all of you, all that you are willing and able to give, all that you are willing to allow and all that you are willing to take in.
Day dreaming, and I’m thinking of you…
“In the forefront of our move toward change, there is only poetry to hint at possibility made real. Our poems formulate the implications of ourselves, what we feel within and dare make real…” Audre Lorde, Poetry Is Not A Luxury