• By: Adia

Posted on November 20, 2010

Things were ripping today. Breaking, popping, pushing and tearing. On grey days I can’t tell whether I’m going to sleep or waking up. Guy says, ” People can lose their souls trying to stand up and get noticed by the world.” I say, ” I don’t want to become one of them. My soul is mostly what I got.”

And them … Eyla, Veleda, Stephanie, Zakiya, Rashidi, Rashad, Daniel, Sonia, Amara, Tossie, Sekou and Guy … the people that believe in my dreams and help me tend to the garden where they grow, the people that give me clean and rich soil to begin … Jessica, Julie and everyone at Counterpulse … the people that pour their dreams of passion and color into my garden of the most beautiful and wild flowers … Mom, Ben, Dr. Rose, Mr. Baba CK, Kokou, Dr. Halifu, Mr. Amoo, Robert, Auntie Ellen … the little ones that laugh, play and throw dirt everywhere … Aisa, Djali  and yes Nezzie … the loved ones that lift all of us … Trina, Chaney, Ambessa, Mama Melissa, Murray, Nathalie, Maya, Dr. Susie, Latanya, DJ Wonway, DJ Ryan, Josh Bee, Jen, Baba Sherif …

In my imagination … there is a house with many rooms where each of my artistic creations live. This world has so many landscapes I get lost when my brain tries to record them all. Each time I go back I learn more and more. Philana was there to help me capture everything. Shamsher made sure everyone knew we did. Del and Patrick lit the paths so everyone could hear and see through the dark. Andrew held my hand when I got scared. Matisse and Sarah made sure none of us tripped or fell along the way. We always looked and felt good when we stumbled. Rita Feliciano said so … In this place … my imagination … the butterflies are released in my soul. I get to sit on the porch and watch them fill up the sky. Sometimes the house starts to sink when the ground gets wet. The tears of my ancestors make heavy rain. My umbrella always breaks, but I don’t care … jumping in puddles under a sky full of wet butterflies is always more fun than trying to stay dry. In my imagination … butterfly wings are stronger than rain drops.

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