Sister, I need to vent, I'm restless, the days are passing too quickly and the old tactics in love and war no longer work and what will we do from now on?
How many chances will we have to linger in a hug and toast the yellow ipês blooming on the other side of the street?
our intersecting paths were pointing in the same direction
I already said that there were some stories that my grandmother told but I was very young and I can't remember them properly (...)
the one about the little flower in the forest, the one about the woman who runs away on the horse, the one about the invisible red thread connecting all the heads (...)
my grandmother on her sewing machine translocated the orbit of the world
Sister, do you understand me?
They tried to colonize the sun and offered it billions of dollars so that it would no longer shine. How are we going to face barbarism? We have to (re)learn to listen to the elders and put our vaginal-cardiac vibrations in pulsating harmony.
Don't worry, as long as my hands can handle it, I'll build barricades, I'll build them, but for that I need your sunny-sunflower existence to support this fight.
The measure of greatness to measure love is the same sensation felt at the top of the mountain - anything less vast than that is a stone in the path and if there were any in the middle of the path, it would be a detour.
Sister, sorry for the rant, it's already past eleven, my feet are throbbing, this election climate is frying my brains, I'm not a voter, I'm an arsonist #nothim #neverhim
A woman stopped me on the street and asked if I was okay. I said yes. She knew my name. I don't know hers. She was old and told me to take care of myself. I just thanked her. She left. I stared at her, and found her a bit enigmatic.
Maybe I should go to therapy, but at this point in my life I prefer to box, study English and dare to write poems without rhymes.
Who knows how many chances we'll have to linger in a hug and toast the yellow ipês blooming on the other side of the street?
Sister, I just need to decide that I love you now.
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Jenyffer Nascimento is a black woman from the outskirts of the city, a writer, mother, student, educator, bohemian, root, wind and freedom. She is the author of Terra fértil (Editora Mjiba, 2014) .
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