Ruth Melise and Olu
I wake up this morning feeling the doldrums
reeling from my previous arrogance to be freed of a godforsaken spiteful place, but having to return to just that place. as if it is written somewhere that i am to save it, that i am to plant something here. that i am to take something still buried here, as if this place still has grand things for me. the grand and great that everybody reports seeing but none can tell me where to look, how to get it. that place.
what to do now what are the next steps. and now to contrive that having sworn off everything i have done and been, environments and locales.
but before i can settle into wakefulness
and before i could use or clear my voice, drink tea or coffee
i get a call
tribeswoman
calling to put a date in my ear
calling to send me messages and remind me of things i know and have learned: " That every one should have their own song" and that most folk, certainly not me, "dont feel enough" i actually feel entirely too much, too deeply. Then the recognition that it is Oshun moving, teaching, carrying, reminding. That i would be called to be availed of such, it is here telling me to keep the sun up. keep the flow going women of water. bearers. and did i not use that metaphor when I pondered of conjuring the what next...saying nothing my materialize, but how to keep the flow on. water.. I need to be around water. Perhaps that is why i am stuck here. I need to be on a small island surrounded by water, and still i am not close enough. I got to get thee hence, to the ocean's edge the river's mouth.
so the conversation ends with plans of gathering.the mutual upliftment of messages. only for me to see an inbox message waiting for me.
Tribeswoman
one that emerges the more that I write?
And as I pondered to day, what next universe, is this the answer here: me and Olu and Treasures. me and Ruth and Singing/Healing, writing songs and prayers specific to and for people and situations, and blessing them with natural handmade reclaimed gifts and spiritual blessings, by Olu>
So i tell product maker that they sent her for me. to keep me shored up. for she keeps making products for me for a life i cannot see, cant seem to reach fast enough, seems lagged and lagging. She keeps making me products that I want to live in and around, though I havent the money to pay her, and cant seem to find the walls to put them up on, or own the chairs for her cushions, or have the windows to hang her curtains woven of fabric, complete with valence. but , they sent her for me. to minister unto me. to prepare for what is coming.
she knew not that i come from a musical family; two are internationally famous, the other to a lesser extent, but still. that i have dreams of being a folksongstress like nina and lauryn. she doesnt know that the likes of Ella considered my poetry and prose for lyrics. And yet, here she is making me quilts of pianos in my national colors
the tide just rose real high
to me: tribeswoman be patient. sit tight. sit longer
to me: tribeswoman be patient. sit tight. sit longer
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