Notes on being alone from a single mother — still breathing — Are we walking around half dead? Women without men, don’t just crumble and die. We don’t fall off the edge of the horizon and sink to the bottom of the ocean like shipwrecked treasure — rusting until a pirate goes fishing or a man decides to fall from the sky…

Traces of the way we were — Have you ever watched somebody you love die? Real life feels surreal when you witness your beloved become lifeless. On a dark December night, I stood in the hospital alongside my siblings at my mothers bedside. We hung our heads in sombre silence. Following a heart attack in an ambulance…

A poem — Sometimes I remember we are made from stardust flesh and soul, I think of how breathtaking, vulnerable and resilient we are and I think of how life and death clings to our bones It’s morning and the rain is falling down the sky is breaking out in pale orange and blue…

A prose poem — The songbirds will flee this winter in London but I will have to stay. The night is fading, the streets are so quiet and the whole sky is grey. I open my window vents and inhale the icy air and it takes my breath away. Still I know I’m one…

A poem — Diaspora leaves fall from trees with roots. Ordinary people, Black as midnight and brighter than the sun, moving through this cold, dark world dreaming and dreaming of what they will become. They arrive in some hostile places and create culture where they land. Bend language and weave style into a patchwork…

A prose poem — Making a way through the world as you sit on top of mounting grief, breathing it in, is a dream that begins with you noticing what triggers the restlessness in your bones. Resilience — against the relentless tidal waves that threaten to drown me — keeps propelling me towards the…