I hold my womb and listen for the songs my pussy got on its heart.
Loving on me is prayer. I learn to be the best lover to myself. Hold my gaze, listen to my heart and desire.
Two months ago I had fibroids removed from my sweet uterus. I have several dear beloveds of mine who have gone through this experience before me. They all lovingly gave me Wisdom as to how to take care of myself. I knew it would be deep but of course as it is in life you don’t understand all the dimensions of a thing until you experience it. “Everything, Everywhere all at once” on my ass. brought to my knees all existential and shit.
Aries season and a personal spring. My healing process felt like dying and being reborn, going into night in prayer and needles in your body and coming out with scars and a blinding sense of personal clarity. I literally felt like a baby, having to receive care from all of my beloveds and struggle to do simple things. I had to stop everything and be slow and be with my existence. I was being waterfalled in love and learning how to center in my worthiness of it. I was given deliciousness and softness for my healing.
My fibroids felt ancestral, familial. So many women in my family have them so many Black people who bleed suffer from them. Hemorrhaging from your uterus is its own private trauma and feels like the embodiment of living in America as a Black woman. I hold my womb and listen for the songs my pussy got on its heart. I hold my womb and also hold the womb of all my ancestors who somehow held the sacredness of they own pussy and wildness and pleasure in a country that wanted to make them into dust.
When I was in St. Croix a couple months ago I laid on a former sugar plantation. And smoked a joint for my ancestors and I just held my own womb and listened for anything they had to say. They told me so much and I just held myself in the sun among the ruins and lushness and cried.
All of us are embodied conversation with our ancestors. Everyday I rewilding myself and surrendering to sweetness and sweet mess…
Sweetness is here, kissing at all things in me broken or confused. I situate/saturate in the limitless love and spirit surrounding me, just all over me. Dripping . . .