Because Every Goliath Meets Its David by Selena Fleming

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I’m fresh off the boat—the one fashioned from ramparts of a journey laden with trauma, ugly-fulfilling prophecies, can’t-get-it-together tendencies and shoulders that have borne more than any one person should ever be allowed to bear. The trek left me weak and barren like the perfect reduction.

In case you didn’t know, a reduction is “the process of thickening and intensifying the flavor of a thing by simmering or boiling.” That’s exactly how it felt—like my soul was boiling over on itself, folding in on itself, under the reign of weights that couldn’t even calculate the density of its own mass.  Like loss and ache infringing on my right to “prosper as my soul prospers.” Like the woman in my mirror dematerializing into vapor. Blinded but sight still intact. Broken but bones need no cast. Full but running on empty. What to do?

Where is the hospice for souls that have birthed rivers from backs that have carried too much?
Where is the salve for the caged fury congealed in the marrow of my ribs?

Selena Fleming

Because Every Goliath Meets Its David

Where is the hospice for souls that have birthed rivers from backs that have carried too much?
Where is the salve for the caged fury congealed in the marrow of my ribs?
Where is the light at the end of this darkness and when will it finally do what it’s supposed to do and be the damn beacon?

Hang in theres and yet holding ons extend beyond my reach wafting into embers that fan the seething fire within and around me. Consuming is putting it mildly. Draining is putting it bluntly. What to do?

Only one thing left to do: stand. Take a breath, take a knee or step back if or when you got too but you stand. Hold your head up high, pop those shoulders back, and you take a step forward into what’s rightfully yours for the taking.

Now hear me well, I can’t tell you that fear will cease to echo in the inner chambers of your mind. I can’t tell you that doubt will be evicted, once and for all, from the premises of your soul. I can’t tell you that what is past won’t try to sneak up and grab you when you least expect it.

But if…you… faint….not… you WILL reap.

If…you…cry…out…you WILL be heard!

And if you wait a little while, glory WILL move and unleash its power!

And I ain’t talking bout that He-man type of power. Naw, honey…

I’m talking bout that no-holds-barred-ain’t-no-stopping-me-now-you-better-move-or-be-moved type of power. The sort of power that swells and crests, shakes and shimmies, dances and crawls because its mantra has never changed: I am. I can. I will.

Say it with me: I am. I can. I will.

Sister, your help is on her way! Do you see?

I see a Warrior gliding through micro-aggressions that ebb against her frame.
I see a Goddess releasing anchors meant to drown her power out.
I see a Queen walking on waves that were meant to topple or maim.
I see a Woman rising anew, weapon in hand and fire in her eyes.

She is reclaiming her time, because it’s high time, she find her a stone and remind this giant who and whose she is!

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