We are women of the wild
Skin like the soil and mountains at night
We drank from the rivers
And feed on the moon
We hold hands with our grandmothers
We talk in traces of holy footsteps
Can you see them
Those wide women
Wide like the earth
Dressed always in white
Ready soldiers of love
They breathe blessed texts
And sing in tones of the soul
You can feel them in your bones
Have you seen them?
They collect in the kitchen
Laughing recipes for survival
While keeping warm the fire
Holding the universe
They cultivate love
In swamps and deserts
She whispers: The forests and friends can both kill or heal you.
Walking in the curative realm
Returning to Freedom: Land Back
And Then there are those who are magical and hunted
She who lives on the intersecting edge of oppression
Carving out a reality
Wings unaccustomed to wind
Learning the sky
With ropes pulling at her throat
What’s it like to breathe in a loose noose
Careful not to lose her footing
Standing on the borderline of death and liberation
Holding a shot gun with a baby in her belly
Surrounded with bitter poison
Yet, guided by her grandmother’s song for the moon
Finding the forest
Deciphers its fragrances
And then back in the city they’ll say. . .
This the tea…
She resigned to live the old way
Living with her family’s land down in Texas
The mission of Rava Chapman is to create and maintain healing spaces. She is invested in the traditions and legacies of Africana Indigenous people. Her work centers around developing healthy relations with the self, one’s kin and community, natural ecology, and with the Great Spirit. She is a copper-colored, Africana Indigenous woman and both a descendant of the Maroon people and those who were enslaved. She is an Afro Chicana and Pan Africanist. She was raised in Black Folk culture and the Black Church.
the Decolonial Passage 
I love this. “Wings unaccustomed to wind” Yaaaassss…
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[…] “A Song for Grandmother: Daughters of Hoodoo” by Rava Chapman […]
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