Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

For so long, I have carried stories within me that these days I gladly give it birth, give it earth, give it all that lets me speak of its worth. See we have always known stars outline our worth, known to pay homage to the earth, and we know the reasons we cried at birth. Though our feet carry us these days towards other roads, these stories still rise and fall at the pleasure of a mind steeped in dreams we birth, like raindrops pattering the earth, we know our name, know our people, know too our worth. 

August will forever be an awakening month, one where I rebuild again. Not only do I celebrate the heavenly birth of my Papa who died 15 years ago, I tend to remember how the journey began and ends but begins again often in August. For example, my first foray as an Assistant Professor began in August almost 11 years ago. I met the late Professor Kalipeni in August. I quit my positions in August, even resigned then watched as the resignation turned to firing in August. People are strange, those you thought you knew and their strange ways are evident in August. Yet, I have taken back my power in August and released those who misalign with my worth in August. I tend to anchor my steps for the new year in August and pray the tide turns my way in August. My angles grow sharp in August as I release the unbearable weight of misaligned people and their truth in August. I am no longer open to the public, to those I once let my guard down for and this reminder around those at the table, hums loud in August. If I am silent, blame the awakening August brings. Rest too.