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Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.

Stephanie Briar

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Death Funeral Memories Oneself Time

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To the oppressed with no seat on the table; dreaming of change and better days, I will pull up a chair, and light fires in your name.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Better Change Day Dreams Fire Help Light Name Oppression Support Yourself
The glint of mischief in your eyes is the flint in my matchstick. Striking; always this close to igniting.
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Eyes Ignition Mischief Myself Relationship
Creatives are neither born nor created. They are activated.
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I would throw down roots with you if I ever had the chance. We’d grow strong in tender shoots, and bloom in burning hands.
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Standing in your power scares a lot of people. You become something formidable, intimating, and aspirational all at once.
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Trauma has deep roots indeed, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pull the weeds.
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“Ashes”, we once thought, but the embers in our eyes might have bought us time.
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The stars are where we came from. They orchestrated our return to the place we can always come home: our ancient, timeless love.
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When I was a child, I used to fear monsters under the bed. I have since learned that most monsters are found within. And they are always worth fighting.
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Our story bleeds from my eyes until I cannot tell the stars from streetlights.
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I don’t know how to put my love down, or to keep holding too much of it.
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Do I look as good as I remember, Looking back at you from over my shoulder, smug as the devil?
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Devil Goodness Myself Remember
As if flesh and skin and hands are any match for bullets. As if bones won’t crack in hails of powder and lead. As if rivers of blood are not the direct result of trigger fingers that bend but do not break on “bad days”.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Bad Blood Bone Break Day Direction Fingers Leadership Power Result River Skin
Our memories lurch to a reluctant halt in their funeral march, so I can pour salt over them one last time.
STEPHANIE BRIAR

Death Funeral Memories Oneself Time
I am strong. My heart still hopes. My mind still dreams. My soul still craves pouring energy into everything that I love.
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Dreams Heart Hope Love Mindset Myself Soul Strong
Some days, my mind will still be in prison, but I will live in spite of it. I unlearn how to swim; I trade my gills for lungs and wings.
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