Peace to all the late bloomers
Right packages at the wrong address
Moved ran and sprinted to new heights to be celebrated
Almost venerated

a poem written during the NY Writer’s Coalition’s Black Writers Sunday Service series

Eleventh hour and witching hour investigations look like me wondering where all the gentleness that people see and describe me with comes from.

They and others that continue to raise me understand that relationships are complicated for me. I’ve mused about it for years, been in a traditional one with someone I loved, and have been on the edge of falling a couple of times - with a lot of “who will leave first” dynamics in between. Also known as “who will psych themselves out first,” “who will get too comfortable first,” and “who will pull a cross fade first.” 

I haven't written intentionally like this is a bit. I mean, I've been writing - getting published and having my words on wax and print, but this practice of alchemizing and weaving that I've done here in my little slice of the internet is special. When I see lessons across all the forms of my life, something says "share it and see if it resonates. If not, it's off of your heartspace." Well, across said avatars of my life, I've died. Ego deaths and molting skins happened in every facet of Veronica.