Roots & Hope
Soulful Reflections on Faith, Healing, and Young Adulting
Category: encouragement
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Sometimes,love means stayingwhere you are rootedand learningto be unashamedof the soilinside your gardeneven thoughit is still litteredwith the historyof broken glassandbroken peoplebroken bywhite supremacy,so brokenthat thoughthey looked like you,they still triedto break your mirror,Black girl. You should havealwaysseen yourself asbeautiful.You should havealwaysbeen protected.You should haveneverhad to healbefore your time. But you, Philly sis,grewinto somethingfar morethan…
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I miss breathing inside Detroit coffee shops, warm and Black-owned, unworried ’bout cops being called on us, for our being is not a crime. * I miss Detroit Sip on McNichols: affirming words topping tables like cloth, beverages named after neighborhoods like sons and daughters. I miss sharing silence there, making pages and verses with…
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I am a writer, and my first published piece was a love note to a boy named Antoine*. I saw him and instantly knew that he was the one. I mean he was cute, and that was enough. I never had a class with him or spoke a word to him. He had no idea…
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Life is not passing me by. I am neither solely existing nor a mistake. Rather, I am soulful and irreplaceable. I don’t need every 1st of January and birthday to validate that life is a celebration, that I can still dream. Every day, I get to experience newness and continuity. If only I can perceive…
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I’m sitting alone inside my car. Just outside of Kroger (a grocery store), a dude plays Christmas music with a woodwind instrument. Ain’t nobody paying him no mind, just grabbing baskets and Purell wipes, likely praying the cranberry sauce is still in stock and the checkout lines ain’t too long. He looks content though, just…
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Almost every night, I dream of you. Sometimes, you’re larger than you were in life, like a hundred pounds more, yet finally light. … I’m absorbing new mornings, but grief is a slow teach of grace. Forgiving myself for unused words and everything I didn’t know is a dying to perfection. I’m sorry I never…
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My memory can’t always give me the peace of a precise beginning. All I know is that my sadness started somewhere and stayed. From secret sadness to downpour sadness, from sadness with a clear cause to sadness with no perceivable why, I’ve felt them all. Shame bullies me into feeling worse. I am unworthy because…
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I see you holding that fear. You’re afraid to log off of every site and every app, because maybe, you’ll miss out on the modern things of life, and maybe you’ll have to release the steady noise of headlines, speculations, and global worries, but please, do not live in shame. You are not alone if…