Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

Some words say the unspeakable, shape the drama and tenor of any moment until you are forced to become entangled by the powers within them. Some words create community, instill a sense of mission that keeps you rooted even if on a cross. These days, I’m in the mood for celebrating how words are freedom, and aspiration of things hoped for while being nailed on a cross.

They say the deadliest disease you will ever have is hope and my body is continually torn with this disease that has no cure. The way hope invades your being, the things it’s conjures up inside of you like fever burning within you will force you to see and maybe even hope for life beyond the cross. Words are like cry of a mother in labor, often forcing reflection, sometimes deflection, then genuflection to the skies above at things that keep one perplexed about the earth below, like how do tigers leap over deers that stand still and stare at people passing by?

Perhaps they do so by remembering to look up, remembering too where help comes from. If steeped in hope, you will you see that words come from unexpected places, people, lessons, changes, love. To be free then through words requires vision, and vigilance about the things we value, those that shape our lives, things that give us life, take life, breathe life still, or end life. We die, that maybe the meaning of our lives says Morrison, but we do language, through words like hope, and that maybe the measure of our lives. Keep this.