Malia’s Birthday

July...

the time of cancers & leos,

rubies,

larkspurs,

red, white, & blue things,

many African independence days,

grilled food,

the endless need for cool air, cold treats, & bathing suits,

comets, firecrackers, & sparklers 

battles between lifting every voice to sing & something called “pledging allegiance” (whatever that means)

July 2020...

all of the above coupled with cosmic chaos in a full moon & lunar eclipse, the longing for outside interaction & stimulation, yet the wanting-needing, to combat rampant disease,

black vs white,

inequity & inequality at the same. damn. time,

financial turmoil,

brutalization,

fear of fear itself...

not to fucking mention, it’s hotta than a witch’s titty everywhere.

hear me out though.

in Texas, cacti are equivalent to bluebonnets.

they are marvels: individualized, cherished, but can be left alone to fend for themselves. succulents have the ability to hold water in their thick flesh for very long periods of time, specifically in unfavorable conditions. one of these most common conditions is the dead heat, similar to that of summer in July.

in spite of this, their spiritual meanings encompass eternal love, growth, tenacity. enduring capacity, peaceful living.

regardless, they thrive.

hard, yet soft. everlasting. never to really die.

so, just to clarify, if I’m not mistaken, if nobody has asked you...

ain’t you a succulent?

I know I am.