Even Monsters Need Flowers, Conclusion

Image Credit: Gaian Bird

Final thoughts, and an affirmation of radical self love.


I am a Black and Indigenous Womxn. I have been enslaved and colonized. All that has been stolen, all that has been murdered, all that has been snuffed out and destroyed flows in my blood, thrums in my bones. I have internalized all of that despair.  My Ancestors sit at my head and my feet. I am who they sent to enact healing for my family line. The monster of my brokenness lives in me and I work and struggle with the seductive pull to sink into hopelessness and hate on one side and blindness and numbness on the other. I walk a tight rope of existence with my eyes open, with my heart raw, and my Spirit constantly healing.

Here is what I know (gnosis). I deserve forgiveness, but I do not require it from others in order to be whole and healthy in mind, body, and spirit. That center will only come from the forgiveness that I grant to myself. If, in fact, we forgive others so that we can move on, then my daughter did not need me present in order for her to forgive me. I can’t speculate on her motives. I only know my own. Granting forgiveness to myself continues to be a thing that approaches, recedes and approaches like fog in the early morning. I can feel it against my skin momentarily. I am less sure about the purpose of forgiveness when this happens, though I am no less committed to the process of finding it for myself.

The truth of my Black Womxn’s heart is that I deserve to be here. No one can take this from me. You may take the breath from this body and I will be food for worms, but the rest is not within your reach.

I deserve the sun of love. I deserve the flowers of healing. I deserve to take up space and exist in the light.

Waiting for Water

My great etc. grandmother’s people say
Give your most precious things of value
To the ones who most wronged you
Shape the perpetrator
Into the one they took from you
Only then will your hearts be whole
All I have to give are ashes
Sifted and sparkling
Bright shards of love
Split apart by the assault
Of gunshots in churches
Of trashbags knotted on bed rails
Of last breaths on concrete sidewalks
Of misled child’s play
Blown out in less than 2 seconds
What can I do
But wear ashes in my hair
Go about wailing in tattered
Array of despair
At this moment
Forgiveness is a distant star
Somewhere in the next galaxy
Its light is 25,000 years away
I think this as I palm
Some bills into
The hand of
A white woman with the fading
Bloom of a black eye
And vomit on her chin
I ask her is there someone I
Can call
She croaks
I got nobody
Find a lyricism in decay
And find a road to compassion
Find a road to compassion
And within a trail to love
Forgiveness is in the ashes still
Waiting for water to wash it clean


Compensate Gaian Bird, Writer

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