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This is a painting entitled “grief moves slow”
an ode to broken hearts, childhood trauma, & my grandfather who passed
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finding the balance between breaking & staying put together
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grief moves slow
I can see the truth of who I am n where im going n what I’ve been n all my sins n all my pleasures n all the walks thru the deserts searching for water
all the visions of a daughter growing in my womb n the thoughts of my grandfather in a tomb under a
Magnolia tree;
how could it be we live n die n inbetween we breathe oxygen from the very trees we get buried under
Cement boxes till the day we die & then some
grief moves slowly, it finds its ways thru your days n lays upon you as gift of deep feelings n seedlings of indigo flowers, holding power, watered by our tears n our fears of words left unsaid, shedding skin after skin & beginning again & again & then
one day we pass away n the afterlife be as it may awaits us in dismay, maybe it doesn’t want you either, so we teeter totter like a child on the playground between joy n blue, & if I’m being true, thought about killing my self the other day, but I’ll take the cue from the flowers & the earth that what feels like death is jus a new spreading of seeds & as I bleed they lead the way thru the dark & bloom again
Grief moves slow
film shots by Masood Shah
:: blooming from within ::
a self portrait
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What I imagine it feels like to be fully healthy & present in my body & in particular my womb. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve been planting seeds in the darkness & when they begin to bloom sometimes it feels deeply uncomfortable. Like we fear growth, evolution. We hold on to all this shit that is really not for us, cause it’s what we’ve known.
a few months ago I lay in my bed, meant to be somewhere I didn’t want to go & knowing my bleed was coming ~ my periods have been uncomfortable, violent even. Painful cramps, migraines, deep insecurity, spiraling thoughts. My bodies way of literally YELLING for help. Trying to guide me to the deep dark caverns of my mind / womb that need attention. Begging to be seen, acknowledged & understood. A mirror. I put my hands on my womb & spread my legs open & as soon as I take a present breath, the memories come flooding in. This can be debilitating so i often shut off, distract, numb. Anything to not have to feel. Not this time tho- I let the memories of past lovers, past selves, past identities, beliefs, stories I’ve been told of what’s allowed, a lot of shame, hurt. And I ask for it be release from me. I don’t want to hold it any more. I ask to release any energy that is not my own, any invisible ties holding me to anything or anyone, I call back my own energy to myself. I ask for it to be cleansed of anything that’s not my own & return it here to my womb. To me. It’s rightful owner. I ask for my power back. I imagine what my womb would look like, feel like if everything that was not mine to carry was gone & everything that is ME was returned. I imagine flowers blooming from my womb. Roots digging down, I nourish them, stems, growing growing, cracking my heart open to be in love with this human experience & emerging out of me, blooming, finding the sunlight & radiating all that I am. & I am free.
If we don’t pay attention to the pieces of us that need it, we will remain stagnant, unable to fully bloom. & you deserve to bloom. ily
Shot in 35mm by Masood Shah