“Sometimes, madness seems like the only possible response to the insanity of the civilised world; sometimes, holding ourselves together is not an option, and the only way forwards is to allow ourselves to fall apart. As the story of Mis shows, that madness can represent an extreme form of initiation, a trigger for profound transformation."
- Sharon Blackie, Mythologist and Psychologist
it’s easy for me to stop loving you
The way the bobcat becomes rattlegrass on Inverness ridge The way a footprint is the mainsail then the lost visa You’re not new I’m datura along I-5 A ghost rattle This is how i came to Bloody Bay Tobago and to a husband who made sure the cupboard was full but dragged me by my hair from the bed to the joining room This is how women become fog and smoke and 1000 starlings leaving the city before you awaken
So it’s 8:48 PM at night, I’ve been trying since 1:30 PM to paint, to write and to make medicine. To have a day to myself. It still hasn’t happened. And it’s not because I’m not trying. I can’t even finish a cup of coffee without it getting cold like that. It’s not boundary issues. It’s responsibilities. And caring for others, I know I need to care for myself, but it’s not that easy. Don’t judge or deconstruct me. O, and I even said no to several things asked of me today.
Black beans and purple onions in a Jicara.
Setting out offerings for Ṣọ̀pọ̀na tonight.
Mood self portrait using Willow charcoal.