Name Redacted

She swept into the room
and I breathed deep of her.
Fresh. Air.

A vision of excellence.
A vision of greatness.
She exuded
power and
intelligence and
magic.
What Black Women are made of.

Her hair
long and beautiful, moving with her.
A most delicate dance.
Her voice
rich
soothing
exquisite
enrapturing.

Her breadth of knowledge apparent.
Her thirst for knowledge visible.
Radiating wisdom with every step.
Every word.
Every breath.

I, in awe.
Speechless.
Lulled into a state of euphoria by her essence.
Submerged in and absorbing
the atmosphere made temperate
by her aura.
Yet wide awake and receptive to
every word, every thought she uttered.

And then she was gone.
But in her wake remained a reverence that begged a question.
Who is she?

She is perfect in a world where everything is twisted and ugly.
The picture of grace and loveliness.
She is comforting in a world that is scary and dark.
The embodiment of warmth and of nurturing.

She is the hope.
She is the light.
She is the shine.
She is you.
She is me.
She is all of us.

She is all
that we can be.

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From Stillwater to Sundown

Today, three of my roommates and I took a quick little half-day trip to Stillwater, MN. A 30-40 minute drive from our house, it’s a cute little river town full of charm, history and neat little shops.

One of the biggest shops in town is the Midtown Antique Mall, three floors crammed wall to wall, floor to ceiling full of stuff. A hoarder’s paradise and an OCD sufferer’s worst nightmare.

I was powering my way through the store, poking in almost every nook and cranny when there it was. Nothing I had ever seen in person before, but the type of thing I had just written about here.

This:

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