A poetic playground for restless dreamers.
in calligraphy it says “yes this is my calligraphy.” in regular type face it says “I write like this to slow down. To feel every word before I share it. To remember that softness is a strength. I know it takes a little extra effort to read it — Note that this is the point. For accessibility reasons, the main message will always be in the caption or alt text.”

🐦‍⬛ Welcome to A Gentle Landing!

a poetic playground for restless dreamers

Hello gentle-people,

You do not have to fall on hard times alone. You do not have to push through with the strength of rugged individualism. The exhaustion you carry, mixed with heartbreak, does not have to drive you toward suffering in silence. You can choose softness. Slowness. A more tender way. A way that honors the pace of flourishing.

My name is rose j. percy, and this is A Gentle Landing—a place to rest and play, a poetic experiment, and a witness to what’s possible when we refuse urgency. I write to slow down and to invite you to slow down with me.

I write to ask questions. I don’t write to keep up—I write to keep close.

This is a place for those who want to live more fully in their bodies. For those who wish to be more alive to the wonder in the world and the wounds that need to heal. For those curious about the life we are called to beyond productivity. For those who suspect that softness might be a kind of strength.

I don’t have all the answers. But I do have questions I return to often:

  • How many feathers does it take to soften the fall?

  • What if tenderness could remake the world?

  • Can “a gentle landing” be a way of life, not just a metaphor?

Here you’ll find curated posts that include gentle prompts, poetic recommendations, and glimpses into how a gentle landing is unfolding in my life and the work I do. These are not self-help steps, but invitations—ways of pausing, noticing, and staying close to what matters.

"come celebrate with me that every day something has tried to kill me and has failed." - Lucille Clifton.

About me, in brief: I’m someone who keeps choosing slowness in a world that demands speed. My formation is shaped by my Haitian-American background, womanist theology, Black feminism, Lucille Clifton’s poetry, my practice of archival devotion, and years of asking hard questions in rooms that weren’t always safe to ask them.

This project is not a brand—it is not set in stone. It is becoming as I am becoming. It is an archive of aliveness. I invite you: come bear witness.

Here’s where else I show up online:

How I hold this space:

I post most Wednesdays, resting as needed. That rhythm helps me honor my body, my spirit, and my call to write from abundance, not urgency. If you choose to support this work financially, know that your support helps sustain my rest and my ongoing learning—the kind I hope ripples outward.

This space is a living archive, best experienced at your leisure. So take your time here and let every feather soften the fall.

a gentle note on the topic of "A Gentle Landing," - The note reads "let every feather soften the fall."

Ways to support:

  • Subscribe for free and receive reflections in your inbox.

  • “Buy Me a Feather” for a one-time contribution.

  • Or become a monthly supporter—or “tender,” as I call them—if that feels right.

A final note: Substack can be a little clunky. Posts sometimes land in spam folders. You can use the Substack app or just keep an eye on your inbox.

Thank you for being here!

wishing you a gentle landing,

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A poetic playground for restless dreamers. For the ones asking deeper questions, recovering from burnout, or wondering if softness still has a place in the world.

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Poet, calligrapher, troubadour. Lucille Clifton scholar. I write to gather feathers for a gentle landing. https://linktr.ee/rosejpercy