Hello gentle-people,
I made it another week without cutting off my hair. I did practice easing my burdens a bit more and leaned into resources in my city to help me navigate this unemployment period. I am coming up with ways to generate income while I am searching and I am structuring my days to balance applying for jobs with self-care.
I am going through some books at the moment that are not in my usual genre of reading. I am shoring up on skills that I am lacking and finding the courage to name what I do with excellence. As I read through them, there is a part of me that remains at odds with the advice: I must adjust for things racial bias, ableism, and white supremacy as I read. That can be exhausting.
But what is exciting to me about some of this reading is the realization that there is a world of opportunity that awaits me. I do not have to sacrifice my values to find good work. I may even be able to find words that align with my ethics. Gentle landing on this journey looks like staying true to myself—there is a cost to this choice. But I’d rather pay that cost then the one that comes with losing myself.
On to our perching lines for today.
🐦⬛ perching lines
A “perch” is a light rest. Much needed in a world where many of us have to learn how to catch a break while standing up. In these short posts, I will offer poems, questions, and connections for those brief moments of reprieve. [Explore more in this series.]
Today’s perching lines are in response to “I could care less, part 1,” which. you can read (or watch) here:
to the bag ladies
Bag lady, you gon' hurt your back
Dragging all them bags like that
I guess nobody ever told you
All you must hold on to
Is you, is you, is youOne day all them bags gon' get in your way
One day all them bags gon' get in your way
I said one day all them bags gon' get in your way
One day all them bags gon' get in your way—Erykah Badu, “Bag Lady”
One of the songs coming to mind for me as I write the “I could care less” series is “Bag Lady,” by Erykah Badu. I think of Badu singing “pack light,” and “you can’t hurry up, you got too much stuff,” and finally the call and response between “let it go” and “betcha love can make it better.”
betcha love can make it better let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go betcha love can make it better let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go betcha love can make it better let it go, let it go, let it go, let it go
Can we just perch on that line together, or do you need another line to rest on? Here’s one from my fav Lucille Clifton
the leaves believe such letting go is love such love is faith such faith is grace such grace is god i agree with the leaves Lucille Clifton, "lesson of the falling leaves"
Surrender
Okay, just one more line—I promise.
I will tell the story of this poem someday. For now, I hope its mystery will make you wonder a bit about what it means for you to embody mercy, especially for all the ways a need to surrender shows up in and around you.
"Surrender" by Rose J Percy
the idea of
surrender
followed me home today
his face a small boy
yet taller than me
and he asked
if he could stay
i said yes but
the night will not
let you rest
and I cannot protect you
when my will gets home
the small boy in
his tall body
dragged his feet
as he walked
behind me saying
thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you
as if my name was
Mercy Percy🐦⬛ Landing Tracks:
In what ways has “letting go” shown up as love in your life? In what ways are you still learning the “lesson of the falling leaves”?
When was the last time you’ve encountered mercy or embodied it yourself? How did it feel?
Join the “Stay Sensitive” subscriber chat. I had some new thoughts to add to a discussion on the word “automatic” from the previous chat. Y’all shared some real gems! I hope this all gets worked into a piece someday.
🐦⬛ Locked In presents…our Unlocked newsletter!
Locked In is a writing group for Black, Indigenous, and Writers of Color/the global majority on Substack. We currently write together on Fridays at 9am EST, with new times rolling out as our community grows. All are welcome to subscribe to Unlocked | BIPOC Reads to enjoy some curated posts featuring work from members of the Locked In community!