Offering Plate
a communal collecting | 001
Sometimes, I don’t have much to give. Sometimes, my own words exhaust themselves. My Offering Plate series is my way to still pour, borrowing from the well of things that have kept me going — whether that be a song, poems from my archives, a reminiscence, pieces of conversations with wise souls, words from others, and so on. The idea of the offering plate is to pass it around, to sow a seed. Think of it as a communal collecting, where members of this community are encouraged to leave their own offering in the comments. To sow and be sown into. To hold and be held. To heal and be healed.
Windsong — Archives from 2019
*Some parts of this poem have been changed*
grandmama said woman, be easy
move those limbs like the wind, soft as a whisper
be easy, be like ocean moving water
moving all this weight from off your brown body
be like, chasing fireflies and clasping them
between your freckled hands
be like, tsunami oh you powerful force
you, moving and moving
you, high tide, be easy like you were
before the world ever tried to make you tough skin
be like braided hair,
twisting and weaving between
your sister’s oiled fingers
twisting and weaving beneath the weight of your sorrow
yet still rising with glory
be like soft rain, april showers
washing and washing your sins down the drain
be like, flower, still growing
through dirt and stained residue
be like, clear sky before the fog ever rolled in
be like crushed olive
be like, mama’s pressure cooker on
sunday afternoons
pressed down and rolled over
but still a jewel in that night sky
be easy, woman
and move those limbs like the wind
woman, be easy
for you still be holy
woman, you still be worthy
woman, you’re still deserving
so be easy, be like ocean water,
moving and moving
and parting the red sea.
I don’t quite remember the space I was in when I wrote this poem, but looking back at it today is a reminder of the fluidity of life and what it brings, a reminder that I don’t have to stay stuck in any specific place. It’s a reminder that I don’t have to be evasive with my softness. I can own it, even when life itself gets hard. I don’t have to harden. I can break, I can feel, I can hurt, but I don’t have to harden. Because I can rise—again, and again, and again.
External offering:
This song by Cleo Sol has softened my soul beyond what words can explain. Her music is like a warm, deep hug. I hope it can be a source of ease, and a reminder to you that things will get better.
And now, I pass the plate. If you have an offering (words of encouragement, or anything on your heart that you want to share) please leave it in the comments.
With love and light,
Mariah Maddox