To Everything is a Season

I cried for 7 days straight and I’m not exactly sure why. & Last night I had a dream and I was flying …. I mean , I was FLYING. And you — you, you were there, except, you didn’t recognize me … but now that I recall, I dont think I even recognized myself … 

I awoke this morning at sixteen minutes to five, accompanied by a spider the size of a quarter, and it was blacker than a cast iron skillet, seasoned to perfection. How the hell did I get here?

To everything is a season.

Note: An Ode to those doing, living, & being the work.

I leave “Dawfuskee” with a heaviness in my heart. We are losing our precious Sea Islands by the minute; Sapelo and Saint Helena being the last to hold on, & even they too are facing major threats of development and land loss. Gone are the old days of Hilton Head before the bridge, Jekyll Island, Saint Simons Island, Amelia Island, Jacksonville, American Beach, Golden Isles, Cumberland Island, Harris Neck, Ossabaw, Wassaw, Tybee, Savannah, Brunswick, Charleston, Edisto, Kiawah, Folly, James & John Island, Sol Legare, Wadmalaw, Mosquito Beach, Myrtle, and the list goes on. When the people and the culture are gone … so are the old ways. I send great gratitude and love to all of my peers in the Sea Islands & Gullah Geechee waterways that are carrying out deep preservation and story work . We will look back one day and say that we knew some of these places before the development and complete erasure. We will also look back and know that we had a part in preserving what was left …

The work that I do is not only for the Geechee folk in my bloodline, but for the entire collective of Ancestors whose stories have been strategically erased & stolen. Let the veneration continue …