Kiss the corners of your face for me. Curlicue the edges of your hair. Your heart is a place for writing the word yes, and you will say no outloud for yourself and this planet when you must.
I will be the bravery, okay let’s be real, the righteous outrage, of waking up and bringing a whole bunch of sleeping mf’s with you.
It’s the littlest ones that overflow with defiance, because we have to. We fit into the cracks this world makes on the bodies and land of the silenced and it is that intimacy, filling, rubbing up against oppression, feeling the jagged spaces with our own constricted breathing, imprint of limitations on our lungs, that makes us scream.
Audre told you. Your anger is not an atomic bomb. The atomic bomb is an atomic bomb. Your voice is the bell of our spirits in the world, clanging rememberance of what whole feels like and what it would look like if we, the planet, really got our stuff together.
When will you seize the world around you with your freedom? NOW and NOW again.
You know I don’t write long letters, and thanks to the technology of heart I don’t have to type this (yes!)
I love you in every piece of your growing soul.