This season I'm inviting you to sit at my feet, sip from the warmth Layers of grace.
Liberated, aren’t your inner child?
Be what you never thought Possible.
Remember the time in momma’s house when paper turned into dolls.
Brown eyes fixated on the light, sun of tropical abundant African land.
Luanda is a city that never sleeps to this day.
Hasn't your inner being dreamt to have resurrected dead dreams lost and left in graves from the past.
Their soil is fertile with productivity, flowers like welwitschia, and orange sunburn opened and available.
Wooden historical monuments of childhood, dusty objects and artifacts all over a home abandoned.
Bairro, as tight, as vivid in daylight,
The colour in faces of community smiles, affectioned hugs, customs, traditional, medicinal herbs not found elsewhere but planted and rooted in the ground in Angola.
The scent of passion fruit from afar, pineapple stirring in the air with juices inexplicable entering my palate.
Tamarind soothing childhood memories as a way of comfort aiding digestive tracks, expelling ulcers and stabilizing blood sugar levels.
Did you know that as a child?
This is the only version to surpass any fear and unavoidable memories from ancestry times.
If my grandmother Olivia was alive, what would she have to say about all of this?
This, you inner me and you the woman who is yet becoming wiser gratefully for this, that, those times failure was the only name in her mind.
Wiser never encompassed to be true in this or any other time.
Did you feel the release of being you even in the most foolish decisions of guilt?
Wisdom has come and kicked shame from both of our guts, spitting, turning, and vomiting what never was.
Happy Birthday to Shakti celebrating our 16th birthday!