Healers Need Healing, Too


My grandmother birthed full moons and crescent revolutions.
Carried lights and made stars out of them.
Conjured spirits and spun indigoes. super-natureles. magicians.
Ancestors crawl up to the beauty mark between my eyes-
unearth the herb used for speedy recoveries;
Rosemary
is the name equipped for my mother to live up to.
She hums hymns known for healing,
watches the world put his weight
on my heart- pump his sorrow into it.

I walk into someone else's bathroom.
Look at my own self in the mirror.
Paint my lips crimson,
reach for the deep blue on my nail,
wonder what it would be like to swim in it.
I know- I've never been very good at diving.
So I tiptoe on the shallows of depression
Pray to Oshun for
Salvation.
Pray to Obaluwaye for healing.
Heartbreak creates revolutions, rebellions,revolts,uprisings.
Ancestors climb into my eyes.laugh at my resilience.
Rip my flesh into a break - through tears escape like ants;
one after the other until the leader cannot be identified.
Soldiers dance on my cheeks, sing songs of emancipation;
Crying is a subtle victory.

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