Pitch black

On the porch

Ok a lil light bleeding through the slightly opened blinds in the kitchen

But

Black.

Noises

Voices

Of nature

The natural

Lighter flick

Flame quick

Inhaling that homegrown

Chemical free tree

Fade..back to Black

We sitting in this humidity

Lit.

listening to Alice Smith

& her tribute to Miss Simone

I put a spell on you

I am the spell, I am, alone.

Pitch Black

Returned back-home. & grown.

The lone voices of creatures in the bush

Nocturnal fuss

She came to the islands and sat on the porch wit ya boi

Asking me questions bout this comfort in this pitch black

Only used to the love and light; she was antsy

I told her I wasn’t afraid of the banshee

Or Even

the quiet spirits

Them things is natural…even if supernatural

Uneasy…

Can’t you hear it?

I don’t fear it.

& no longer fear death.

It’s a part of the process.

I fear attracting my divine partner

And for some unforeseen circumstances or reason having to leave her, shortly after.

death.

I’ve died a hundred times.

That’s why I don’t fear death, itself.

I ache for how much the pain can inundate your family and friends

Knowing you won’t see or experience this person again

& that…The last time was the last time.

So. acknowledging this gift

Of life. I do my best

To be present

And intentional in my movement.