Songs of
the Lotus.

A trip to Colombia. A slum full of children who showed me what joy actually looks like. What choosing to trust cost me, and what it gave back.

On the quiet revolution of realizing your parents were once children too. And what we inherit when we finally let ourselves see them that way.

A poem about light, darkness, and the hands that reach across the darkness to sow something into the earth.

I find myself in the darkest corners of life. Caress my tears and breathe love into my lungs.

They say good girls don't wear red lips. I've never been one to follow submissive scripts.

A photo and poetry trilogy made with photographer Jeffrey J. Matos. Three poems on innocence, desire, and the pursuit of a peace that can't be found in the clouds.

An original composition produced and written in response to racial violence and the fight for Black lives. With spoken word from Ella Baker, Maya Angelou, Toni Morrison, Nina Simone, and Malcolm X.

On corporate performativity, the double edge of social media activism, and what allyship actually requires. Written in the weeks after George Floyd's murder.

A birthday poem at twenty-five. On tasting the sea, the quarter-century mark, and why you shouldn't race time to its destination.

Written during the pandemic lockdown. On the strange peace that arrived alongside the panic, and what solitude revealed about creativity, trust, and the mystery of an unfinished life.

A guru asked: who are you, really? Not your roles. Not your credentials. On the difference between schooling and education, and what we lose when we mistake possession for identity.

Inspired by Siyanda Mohutsiwa's TED Talk on young Africans using Twitter to find their voice. On what we do instead, and what social media could actually be for.

Questions I've carried since childhood and the ones that have replaced them. On what happens to curiosity as we grow, and why the hard questions are worth holding.

There is freedom when you escape into the mountains. On the restorative pull of wilderness, the scent of firewood, and the night sky that reminds you of your minuteness.