“and what happened
when you left
all the water started to weep.
the lands ate our feet.
africa had to keep
sky from jumping into her lap from grief.
when you left.
we got out the pots.
and put our laughter into our teeth.
prepared meals. so we could release you.
let you go.
we ground the seed.
blew the spice.
you into being gone. we ate flowers and sniffed cinnamon sticks to perfume your leaving our bodies.
devour your body.
smile while they plucked your eyes into
their pockets for later.
the time when they will make your name. a war against us.
what happened when you
broke. and kneeled over in pain. and sang. and threw ourselves against the walls, against each other, and hid, and opened, and tossed ourselves into work, and danced, and shrank, and closed, and ate, and bled, and held on, and ignored, and accepted, and lied, and created, and drank, and drugged, and loved something/someone/somewhere/ourselves fiercer, and rejected, and swam, and yearned, and distanced, and clawed, and touched, and some of us will disown you because you hurt too much. some of us will have to say your name for a year before we are able to sleep.
when you left madiba
the same thing that happened
when you came.
you lit life on fire.
so rest beloved
rest in ease.
we will continue to make the soft fire from our skin.
you showed us how.”—what is left (the day after you have gone), nayyirah waheed (via nayyirahwaheed)
“Too many young girls don’t know how to act when someone’s being inappropriate with them. They giggle or they try to brush it off. Don’t do that. Tell them to go fuck themselves - be a bitch. If someone’s being disrespectful to you, be disrespectful right back. Show them the same amount of respect that they show you.”—Wise words from my mom (via magicrobotgeography)
sO my friend’s dog died and she lives in new york city and so she had to take it to the vet by the subway and she put the dead dog in the suitcase on the subway and it was a pretty big dog and some dude saw that she was struggling with the suitcase so he asked if she needed help with…
"When I was about 20 years old, I met an old pastor’s wife who told me that when she was young and had her first child, she didn’t believe in striking children, although spanking kids with a switch pulled from a tree was standard punishment at the time. But one day, when her son was four or five, he did something that she felt warranted a spanking–the first in his life. She told him that he would have to go outside himself and find a switch for her to hit him with.
The boy was gone a long time. And when he came back in, he was crying. He said to her, “Mama, I couldn’t find a switch, but here’s a rock that you can throw at me.”
All of a sudden the mother understood how the situation felt from the child’s point of view: that if my mother wants to hurt me, then it makes no difference what she does it with; she might as well do it with a stone.
And the mother took the boy into her lap and they both cried. Then she laid the rock on a shelf in the kitchen to remind herself forever: never violence. And that is something I think everyone should keep in mind. Because if violence begins in the nursery one can raise children into violence.”