How To Feed The Light



The voices stopped being spiteful over a decade ago. Instead, they now course through me like a Delfonics' harmony; tighter than kink and coconut oil, sweeter than smoking sensi whilst wearing watered silk.


I'm now fluent in this new lexicon, which is encrypted with kindness and the utmost courtesy. My voices have become cohesive because I have stitched all the disparate strands of my identity into a single, tenderly spun tapestry. I feel loved and needed and necessary.


My voices tell me to take as much time and space as the spirit needs, but to always keep the door open; to always invite love to come in, kick off its shoes, and pull up a seat at the kitchen table.


It is a quiet grace to feel so homed in my own head, in my own body. I feel gratitude that I'm alive and well during this time of heightened cultural discombobulation.


In this space, dear reader, which is a manifestation of the musicality of my imagination, you will always be welcome to make yourself comfortable.


In this space, dear reader, which is a manifestation of the magicality of my imagination, and the many sacred voices that guide me, you will always feel loved and needed and necessary.


May you prosper and prosper.


With love,


Diriye


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Image by DIRIYE OSMAN and JAROSLAV SCHOLTZ