The Weight Of June & Her Days

...the hour.

It is a cold Sunday afternoon. We are several minutes past one according to my watch. My cold feet are thankful that the laundry basket is still full but my disoriented mind is freaking out. I am listening to Lingala oldies to soothe myself.

...the anniversaries.

I am six Hive years old. Hivebuzz said so three days ago. As a poet, here is where I have gotten past toddling and found my rhythm of words. I owe this community the nurturing it has offered. It is also the same time I celebrate when I finally found the courage to leave an abusive marriage. I do it to celebrate the resilience engraved here unintentionally.

Gender-Based Violence is something I abhor.

_{...some rice combined with potatoes and spices garnished with half an avocado to unlock beautiful childhood memories.}

...the state of the mind.

What can I say? Memories hold too much power. Sometimes they make me smile but then they are those that wipe off my smirk as speedy. Like everyone else, I am trying to make sense of this experience from my foggy perspective.

There isn't so much to work with so I am making due where I can. My mouth is dry. I can't recall the last time I had something juicy to munch on. Spiritually speaking that is. My hands are waiting on the mind to decide on what goes first.

My mind is ignoring the empty wallet as it entertains hope in a different room. And so I have researched some more on medicinal plants. Affordable ways of getting planters -tried to make some cement and fabric ones but everything backfired.

...everything is here but it's not.

I am a reforming spirit. I am choosing to believe in abundance. My circumstances though keep highlighting scarcity irritatingly. Dreams require goals and those need fuel to blossom step by step. And as is humanly expected of me, I can't help but slip back to fighting what's beyond my control severally.

But.

Life has its way of encouraging me to be patient with myself. Age is helping too. And so I often find my path as soon as the urge to attempt something different resurfaces. I have to. I have people relying on me.

...the next easiest step.

I am still looking for the how-to to set up my balcony garden. Planters are the major hindrance. Food security would help me reduce the number of grocery store trips. I hope to make a simple briquette oven. And my craving for a homemade pizza or anything roasted for hours is the excuse.

I hope to make my planters -cement and clay. My desire to furnish half of my house with plants and herbs is expensive and only DYIs can save my soul. Also, the unending need to be self-sufficient as possible and my creativity dying to come out to play cascades into bettering my mental health so why not.

If I manage to carve out the time to post about it, I am also counting that as me putting satisfactory content out here. It will reduce my rants and some negative vibes they develop into on my part. It will help me engage with the community gathered here from an encouraging point of view.

This also means if you read my work, I might start evolving into a tribal medicine woman. I have been learning about how to heal myself and my brood with what my ancestors used and what modern-day healers who lean into a holistic approach practice.

wambuku w.