what a time to try and be brave,
what a time to still dream,
when the cracks in the ground gape showing no mercy —
and the sky is on fire and our spirits are breaking
my bones are jagged edges,
my flesh layered with ancestral memories,
skin stitched in stories —
scars and stardust trails woven in like a tapestry
I am the Suns kissed flower — its African daisy,
the Moons favoured child,
daughter with a penchant for sin,
derived from the Delta — a Naija, ‘London ting’
as my sisters/brothers in diaspora, guérin — a full catalogue of quiet, burning things,
wrapped in flags gold, red, Black and green —
drip like diamonds with pride beautifully glistening,
still rising, we move, striving as we bleed
surviving these times is assurance that God is an African woman —
rooting for us/you/me.
I open my heart to more and more life — and witness the alchemy,
sending on loving vibes, let the lioness walk with me.
repeating my mantra — like 1,2,3.
Rest in power to the ancestors.
Thank you for every breath I breathe.
Find my soul by the river.
Find yourself in a dream.