Sunday, February 15, 2009

Christmas Mourning 12/24/08

Look slow ... Move fast ... The ground is on fire ... but I don't even worry myself with that anymore. If I was at home I would ask if the fumes were toxic. Now, toxic is relative. It's Christmas in Ghana and Jesus Christ is nowhere to be found ... except on the back of tro tros stuck in traffic. Today there are none. ...

Alicia Pierce became an ancestor yesterday. ASE. She was one of my Mamas. A silent cyclone shredding thru dawn. The most refined cloth. Gold buttons down the front of a freshly ironed linen dress. A purple and black second line umbrella with silver trim. Like low country swamp water swimming thru the dirt on a crocodile's back. Eyes like honey. Hips like mountains, rivers, and streams. A solemn and humble prayer to Osun. A beautiful, respected elder that laced me on hella game ... like a ridiculous amount of profound knowledge, love, and support. She taught me how to unlock my back bone like a gangsta and drop it like it's Africa!

Respect to you Queen. From the inside out 'til the wheels fall off. I am so grateful for your life and legacy. My teacher ... May your transition be smooth, safe, and filled with light. I will miss you so much.

PhotobucketCape Coast Dungeon. (Ghana, 2008)

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