Bout to Give Birth to Church

This year makes ten years since I finished college.  It seems like not ten years, but then like a lifetime ago.  So many things have happened since then.  My whole world has changed. 

I try not to romanticize the person I was ten years ago, the life I had in my late teens, early twenties.  I know that things happen as they must, and I love the life I have now.  At the same time, sometimes, I find myself missing that girl, and that life.  Missing going to see the Roots and Kweli every time they hit New Orleans, having all the people at the record store near my apartment know me well enough to tell me what came out that I might be interested in.  Sometimes I miss spending most of my time on the road, driving and flying around the country organizing and talking about the prison industrial complex. 

Sometimes, as I get older, and get more wrapped up in building a solid family, I feel like I can’t see myself.  I lose sight of the things that I want to do.  I can vaguely remember that I have non-human things to give birth to, but there are so many other things in my brain — some of it important, some of it clutter — that I can’t make heads or tails.  And I feel stuck. 

And then I put on some Badu, and she makes me feel like myself.  She reminds me of what I’m here to do, and shows me how to move all the fog, all the voices, and get down to work. 

So tonight, I’m listening to e. badu.  And I’m bout to give birth to church.



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