between two thorns
27. No clear job prospects. Gaps in my resume. Unrelenting back pain as though I were double my age.
I carry so much. The hopes and promises of my name. The faith of a struggling family bestowed carelessly on a gifted child. Ka Setswana ba re motho o imetswe.
Today I noticed that I feel the knots embedded in my shoulders more intensely when my thoughts are unhealthy.
I feel like a plant struggling to grow in hostile soil. One whose genome is set, whose ideal future is laid out yet consistently and increasingly illusive. Out of reach. There is not enough nourishment in this soil. Someone mixed building materials in and I am not one that mixes with concrete.
I am born of roots, webs and streams. I do best where I am safe, where care is abundant, and nourishment comes from small gestures and little kindnesses.
In this place, where pressure and anxiety start at sunrise and all submissions are to be in before sunset- I wither and wilt. Rain is always a thunderstorm of rumours, looks and disapproval.
My joy and my gentle sun rays approach as the academic year ends. I have learned much. I now know where I cannot thrive. I know to listen to my intuition first. I am grateful, I approach my solar return with a determination to let go and find ease in feeling so f* free.
Ka Setswana ba re ha o imetswe, o role.
