She runs, a black girl
with the cold wind in her hair
not giving a care for states

She runs, a black girl
with the cold wind in her hair
not giving a care for states

your body aches
as comfort evades you
your mind rummages
around dark recesses
doubling back into wounds
sneaky drafts seep through window panes along with the cries of seagulls
eyes gritty and sore, moisture absent
when will it be morn?
when this charade can be over
for another night?
when you can drag your body
towards the light
your consciousness
compromised and dull?
but it’s the best you can do
after sleepless nights
under salty cold air

I discard boots before I hit the sand.
Dense turfs of grass tickle my ankles.
Raised veins single the cold.
White winter light under a wolf moon. Deep. Red. Heart.
The sight of seagulls.
Wingbeat to wingbeat song.
Stripping down to my costume
rich flesh graces the air.
Dip one. Slip one. Soon come.
Into the sharp shallows.
Howling with a hunger.
Dip one. Slip one.
Handfuls of sea slipping
through fingers towards
total immersion.
Welcome these little deaths,
to be born again and again.
Here and there and afterwards,
in solitude, as traces of you linger.

the sun rises late
body reluctant to start
remains huddled, warm

“There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and will be lost.”
― Martha Graham
Writing around this quote today, I realised that I feel energised when I create. I say ‘create’ but what do I mean?
Over the past few days of being confined to home, I’ve created pocket books, a days of December journal. I’ve decorated postcards for a international swap. I’ve put words, paint and scraps of paper to paper. I’ve collaged as if my life depended on it. And in a way it has. Because all of this creating feeds my soul and this is where my energy comes from.
My light source is my soul. If I feed this source on a daily basis then I have the energy to get through my day. And saying ‘get through my day’ sounds like a chore. But it’s not when I’m feeding my source, my light, my soul with this special, rich sauce that keeps me alive, brings me joy like playing with colour or words.
Things are not perfect and never will be. We’re not rolling in money and we have our worries. But each day, I feel I’m growing in light and grace and gratitude because I’ve made this showing up at the page a priority for me.
For me it all involves paper.
Paper and what I decide to do each time with that paper. Write on it, cut it, stick it, colour it, fold it, sew it. Paper.



I am more and more present: in my mind, body, heart, soul, and conversations daily.
I am guided to use my energy and gifts in the highest meaningful way.
I am blessed with genuine support and insight in my community, conversations, and interactions.
My vibration is meaningful.
I arrive home to myself, daily.
— Lalah Delia

I forgot to share my recent creation featured on Nine Muses Poetry website because I was getting lost in the wilderness with the Black Women’s Leadership Program with the Earth Sea Love nature project. But now I’m back and got my head turned around and ready to share. Check it out below. Thanks.
One Poem by Sheree Mack
OCTOBER 20, 2019 ~ ANNEST GWILYM
Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.
Listen
… to the geese gathering
honking at all hours, they have arrived
to wait out the winter on these shores
Listen
… as they take to the clear sky
together, in formation, whining, squeaking,
as their wide wings caress the cool air
Continued on website here
The month draws to an end. And so does my challenge of walking out every day, taking photographs and reflecting on the practice. I didn’t manage it every day as mid-way through sickness hit our household. But I do think I completed more walks than if I wasn’t trying to complete the challenge.

Today was a glorious window of light, that I’d be a fool to miss out on. So it was a quick dip in the bay and it was bitterly cold. And then a brisk walk along the shore to warm up. It was a great way to start my day and help with productivity for the rest of it.

As promised to my Patreon sponsors, I delivered my first essay from the forthcoming mixed genre memoir. I’ve made a commitment to share one essay and reading list that I used to complete the essay at the end of each month for the rest of the year. Yes only four months but still that’s four essays done than not.

The theme was climate justice this month and I enjoyed writing it once I got into it. This essay’s been brewing since I first came across the work of Wretched of the Earth. So the time and space and audience to finally complete the beginnings of an essay around this. This is just a draft but at least I now have something to work with moving forward. Making this commitment made me accountable. For which I am thankful.

You can jump on Patreon for as little as $1 to read it if you want. And as always, I appreciate feedback, comments and arguments.
Here comes October, my birthday month. Yay!
Written in response to this month’s Special Challenge.
salt screams in our blood
you say hold
this mottled memory close and stretch your hand
a c r o s s
the dark a watery mass
of unspoken woes
grow between us I hold on tight shackled to your story your eyes touch me and I…
— Read on ninemusespoetry.com/2019/09/14/one-poem-by-sheree-mack-3/
Thank you Annest for publishing one of my poems again.