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Melanated Gardens

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Introducing Melanated Gardens: a collaborative project created by the mother-daughter writing duo Nia Pearl and Inja Vitero. Combining Nia’s poetry with Inja’s calligraphy, the pair are selling cards and prints of selected poems. Please check out their site and support your local black owned businesses: http://melanatedgardens.bigcartel.com/

More of Nia Pearl’s poetry can be found on instagram: @notes.by.nia

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Top 10 Posts of 2017—No. 7

My Mother’s Garden

IG: @Notes.by.nia

Read other work by Nia at:

Melanated Gardens

GenreUrbanArts.com

ink and spices.

She is a glass deliciously full

Your favorite song with just the right rhythm

A new pair of dancing shoes

with just enough room to grow into.

She carries herself with a special kind of optimism.

Tending to her garden with the hope

that each year new buds will come back.

Collecting seeds with the promise of new growth.

We are of the same garden.

She planted her roots in me

Teaching me how to blossom.

Gardens have seasons yet she is always in full bloom.

In a word she is perennial.

Permanent.

Unceasing in her love.

Dance mama–

Like the flowers are singing for you.

June 26, 2017

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Controlled Burn

Gone are the days of spitting words

at each other like wildfires.

Sparks that caught too quickly

that even our tears could not quell the damage.

Look how our passionate fire turned toxic.

But you of all people should know

that even the oldest forests must burn down,

if only to make room for fresh growth.

Our controlled burn was inevitable.

How else to cleanse our love-soaked soil

turned hazardous.

So we back-burned

leveling our ground,

before distance could poison the

seeds of our once blossoming friendship.

We burned ourselves into silence,

Clearing the way for

sincere attempts at life after love.

Sometimes we must set ourselves alight

Just to begin anew.

And (re)growing we are,

even if our roots are no longer

intertwined.

 

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Photography: Lanaya @writing.for.the.calm

 

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My Mother’s Garden

Like morning she rises,

Full of light

she rewrites the sunrise each day.

Her name is the place between home and homebound.

She is my favorite place.

Smelling of sweet breezes

fresh earth

ink and spices.

She is a glass deliciously full

Your favorite song with just the right rhythm

A new pair of dancing shoes

with just enough room to grow into.

She carries herself with a special kind of optimism.

Tending to her garden with the hope

that each year new buds will come back.

Collecting seeds with the promise of new growth.

We are of the same garden.

She planted her roots in me

Teaching me how to blossom.

Gardens have seasons yet she is always in full bloom.

In a word she is perennial.

Permanent.

Unceasing in her love.

Dance mama–

Like the flowers are singing for you.

June 26, 2017