Armed with two coupons good for almost fifty percent off my total purchase, I entered Michael's, a local craftstore in Metairie, Louisiana on a mission. I would rid myself, or at least find an outlet for all the anxiety that I am filled with at this time of year.
I am coming up on the two year anniversary of my son's father's death and the mania of the time creeps back into my psyche not so subtlely. When I feel this way, I am restless. TV is no use because I can't pay attention--I can write but only for so long. Music helps but I still need something to do with my hands.
This weekend I decided I would declutter my mind the way I used to when I was child. While my collages and paintings may not reveal any hidden inner genius, they do calm my nerves, make me feel connected to Marley's dad, and its also an activity that me and my son can do together.
Sitting out in the sun, feeling the breeze, gluing my feathers, flowers and magazine clippings into a "found poem"(a type of poetry created by taking words, phrases, and sometimes whole passages from other sources and reframing them as poetry.) with my son's assistance, is as close to peace,as there is in this chaotic city of mine.
With each thing I create,I become closer to the woman in the mirror.I harness more and more of the power that lies in my own hands.
As women we possess the power to both take and give life to all God's creation. It's like my girl Nikki Giovanni said,
I am so perfect, so divine, so ethereal, so surreal
I cannot be comprehended
except by my permission
Call it ego-trippin if you all like-- but in a city filled with choppers, cops, weight, victims, and perpetrators--armed with my feathers and my word...
I call it necessary.
By any means,