Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

I took a break determined to do the only thing I could. I watched birds as they perched on bouquets of flowers, bright and colorful. I have always said if I am still, be afraid. If I rest, be equally afraid. Be still and know, be still and know. The sighting of birds, the sighting next to flowers with colors exploding, is like a seed of restlessness, waiting only for time to bloom. There were times of rest that were never chronicled. They propelled me to my finest hour. Though things may crumble around me, I have seen how every single shatter occurs so I breathe. They lead me to my wildest joy. My stories yet untold. Some may say change your ways. I’m listening. Some may say, listen, you need to let things be. I am listening. Some may say step away. I am still listening. Some may still change even as you let things be. Yet, I will listen. I choose any way by design. Though they try to pry and look where they are not supposed to. They forget I have seen the power of eyes that turn things to stone. It may seem already late. She is away too, so it may seem the road with its stones have fallen into places. Yet, Nkolika. Remember this and know the source of my ease. My peace too. Little by little, I will slowly let the stories unfold. I will slowly clear new grounds, as I perfect this wild and shapeless air, perfect the flowers we bloom. I know these stars will burn, and a new voice will emerge, and they will keep me company, alongside the ones who save, the ones named after our fathers, the gift we receive, the ones named after God, the gifts we return, plus two birds perched on exploding flowers, all of them will keep me company as I prepare to dance my best dance yet, as I prepare to do the only thing I can, in the company of the one who saves, to save this wild and precious light.