love

where does your energy go?

| Sheree
i ain’t smiling

i’m protecting my peace so i have the energy for me, to {BE} in service for we, the we that looks/{BE} like me

this is all becoming clearer now

i’m not expending or wasting any more time, energy, attention on those (white) people who do not see me. or when they do see me, they do not see me as human

as Akwugo Emejulu says, the black woman can never be a human being

for decades i’ve spent time, energy, attention, through my practice and day to day life, trying to convince others ( white people) of my humanity. i would bend over backwards trying to get accepted, recognised, cherished as a fellow human being

look, please, i’m human. look, please, i feel, i hurt, i bleed. i breathe

no more. i am no longer prepared to play that role. dance this stupid dance. as i will never be accepted, recognised, loved as a human being. the system won’t allow it. (white) people won’t allow it

i’m no longer wasting my energy on proving jackshit

i’m refusing what has already been refused of me ( fugitivity)

i knowing who i be. i am smart, i am kind, i am important ( The Help). and i don’t need/want/entertain any (white) person to tell/grant/recognise me as such

and i’m no longer apologising/ playing it down or safe/ tempering for how i feel/act/ {BE} about this situation

as that just expends/takes/sucks out of me a whole heap and of other energy

i ain’t smiling.

a much appreciated gift

| Sheree

After a really successful visual journaling retreat in Sheffield, which I’ll share about soon, I was gifted this handmade journal.

Made from wallpaper, eco-dyed papers and love, Dal Kular, a wonderful friend and fellow mischief maker gifted me this journal. Off shots from a bigger, much bigger journal she created in connection with her creative in residence in Peak District National Park, Dal wanted me to have this beauty.

I know Dal was proud of it and knew that I would put it to good use. I dived into using it start away. I needed the clarity of a new journal, while on the road with Kiwi and this journal is fulfilling that need and want, remarkably well.

I’ll be back later this week to share the completed journal spreads.

creative dispatches

| Sheree

sometimes i’m writing. my body is writing and she doesn’t know . she doesn’t know what / how/ where. the body just doesn’t know yet what to say. how to say it.

my body writes what is doesn’t know yet.

what is put down on the page, the words and language doesn’t know either. what is it trying to say?what does it know? what doesn’t it know?

i was going to say that things become clearer in the process. but that’s not true. in the process more questions are raised. not answers. but more curiosity, wonder and play.

here, i’ve cultivated a safe space. a safe container where i can be intimate and vulnerable. i can experiment and play to locate my voice, my knowledge and wisdom.

i embark on another journey with my body writing what she doesn’t know after completing an amazing commission/ gig/ assignment. i’ll share soon. i feel depleted after fullness. i’m tired but also lost.

i know i need to rest before anything else. so i rest for now. i rest in the not knowing.

pink frosting and all things nice

| Sheree

you can not say i did not give generously.

you can not say i did not give openly.

you can not say i did not give my truth.

you can not say i did not give my care.

you can not say i did not give my sweetness.

you can say though, i did not take your shit.

you can say i did not take your childish ways.

you can say i did not take your attention or care

and i most definitely did not take you heart.

peony practice

| Sheree

peony, oxeye daisy, foliage and rose.

i practice their names like i practice how to breathe

without you. i smell you still upon the covers, upon my skin.

citrus, moss and burnt wood. your magic seeped under

my skin into the blood. hypnotising my senses and made

me light, made me forgetful and soft. no regrets.

i only wish, i had kept my eyes open in order to see your guise slip

like a big blousy peony petal to the earth.

the orange fish is softer and warmer than you

| Sheree

let me embrace the orange fish. the orange fish compliments my dress.

compliments my wanting lips and heart, much better, much softer than you.

as i hold my heart in haste and protection, let me embrace something that is willing

more open to my grace than you. i thought i made myself clear, i’m not here to

stare into cold glass eyes, twisted thoughts and warps hands and heart.

let the wind blow through my hair and take all promises of you away too.

the rooms may be empty but this orange fish will make me warmer,

the sweetness is ruined

| Sheree

stuck in the dark, you ruminate over what went wrong.

did you give too much in too little time?

did you show your soul too soon, too full?

stop. you will never know his being, his concealment.

his omission. grieve if you must. but it is his loss.

you are still full, still sweet, still in control

of the cake, the knife, your heart.

sacred love

| Sheree

listen to your heart. allow the serpent to wrap itself around you.

there’s danger yes, risk. but also joy and pleasure to have.

let go, don’t hold on to tight. let the apples fall where they fall.

just savour the h=juicy connection, the meeting of bodies and mind.

be your full self. it is them who cannot not handle your full heart.

the rot is theirs not yours.

affairs of the heart

| Sheree

i enter the arena on my own terms

looking for what, i do not know

but I’m open and caring, wise and full

the reveal i did not see coming, the betray

harsh and bitter like garlic, it was his insecurities

still i’m the one pinned to the board

like a specimen, like a freak, like a crushed butterfly