As I extend myself in the posture of Mother God. I open my arms wide and without condition, to wrap around you, to pull you into my bosom, and to breathe into you

🖤 The love you were born deserving of.

🖤 The respect that was always yours.

🖤 The peace and health that flow from the Divine not earned, but gifted.

I sit here, in sacred pause, pondering all I’ve seen with these eyes. Eyes that were not just made for sight, but for seeing what others often miss. And with them, I’ve seen men,

Black men, move through this world

Unseen

Unprotected.

Uncelebrated.

Unfinished.

I’ve wept for those who transitioned too soon, not because their time was written to end, but because they were not given the tools, the love, the support, or the applause to fully live what was inside them. But I do not stay in sorrow.

From the tears, I rise into a holy ovation.

👏🏾 A round of applause for the ones who made it.

👏🏾 A standing ovation for the ones who kept going.

👏🏾 Thunderous hand claps for the trailblazers, those who are still here, and those who will never be forgotten.

This is the sacred work to mourn, to honor, and to witness. Because love without memory isn’t complete. And grief without glory isn’t holy.

And now, we sit in the silence.

A sacred pause. A breath held in honor.

A breath held in honor for those who have come, those who have gone, and those who will appear in the future.

Postured as Mother God,

I love you.

Ase’