soft magic.

by Upile Chisala

people who only wish to stifle your bloom, do not belong in your garden.

you are a woman after your own heart, darling, that is the bravest thing you could possibly be.

my mother tells me she raised herself. see…. she has always been both sunshine and rain for me, I am in awe of how she survived and became a flower with neither.

Do not accept the love of a man who makes you feel small, the universe is already so vast.

darling, remember to run from men who promise you completion. you are already whole.

“you become a woman the day you can take heavy words and grind them till they are honey”

darling, your strong bones were formed in a womb. you started from softness. you came from gentle, please remember that when you love.

tell her there are goddesses in her bones and tales of triumph in her skin and that blackness is not a sin.

poems, like bodies, carry blood and water and bits of everyone who’s ever loved us.

he said: are you sure you don’t carry the ocean in your chest? mountains in your eyes? the sky in your hips? because you are starting to feel like the whole world to me.

I don’t want to be less of me if that’s the only way I’ll get more of you.

I am still learning to make language out of pain, to write out all the ache. I am still teaching my fragile and my strong that they can co-exist.