the holy in between

where history wasn’t all peachy, and your grandma wasn’t the saint the stories painted her to be

the intense transition

the current and present living

telling the story now, so it’s already written and consecrated when I’m gone

the sankofa

the merge of old and new, of technology and oral tradition, of air fryers and ovens on thanksgiving

the EDM and the shout, the tambourine and the beat drop, the drum beat and the sanctified oil, the beat drop and the holy ghost fall out

the doing and action between verbal manifesting and physical doing

being a younger millennial, stuck between gen z new world and baby boomer 2.0 tradition

The green flash on the horizon, when one chapter ends, door closes, and adventure begins

a scientific, numerical-based phenomenon that we all go through, in which we all yearn to be witnessed and recorded and seen and heard

“see my magic! see my dance! see my color, my art, my hair, my ability to speak well, to enjoy life, see me!”

you are no longer a mythical legend, with records lost at sea, you are here baby

present, evergreen, green like the flash on the horizon both mirage and tangible, teleporting us in the future Octavia Butler spoke about. Black women will lead the way, we’re your key to the holy in-between, your tour guide, your Rosetta Tharpe, your secular and sacred your sexy church organ chords played on an electric guitar

listen to our wisdom, witness our movement and learn something

“that’s just sped up blues, I’ve been doing that for forever”

the holy in between, where I am in alignment with my highest self BECAUSE of my most disciplined past

ase and amen 12/7/21