Whenever I got lonely, or needed some advice, he gave me his shoulder, his words were very nice…

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I picks my friends, like I picks my fruit,
and granny told me that when I was only a youth,
I, don’t walk around trynna be what I’m not,
I don’t waste my time trynna get what you got.
I work at pleasing me, cause I can’t please you,
and that’s why, I do what I do,
My soul flies free like a willow tree…

Fruit…

He brought so much excitement to my day.  Spending hours in my cypher, he began to write poems, inspired by the way my mind floated.  He remained untainted by false profits, and listened to the elders.  He meant what he said.  He said, he’d see me through my healing.  He was strong.  He needed me, just as I needed him, sustained by my unpredictable existence, he levitated in the walls that I cultivated- orange and red hues, with yellow overtones.  My creations empower.   I am the water bearer, the loyal one.  Blossoming spirit, they desire, but I chose  him.  I swallowed his insecurities, and I deciphered his anger.  He gave to me purely, without expectations.

I am Shila Iris, life-sustaining…

The Healer

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He called out to her from a distance and she pretended not to hear him.
Not because she didn’t like the sound of his voice,
but because she did not want him to look into her tear-filled eyes.
He caught her, pulled her towards him and asked her to accept his presence.
She lifted her head to see, the face of the Sun.
The time had come.  She smiled.  For the rest of the day.

I asked the elders if I could speak freely, and they said, absolutely.
I earned the right to tell my story, for without the element of truth,
it would all be in vain.  The generations to follow will hear the sound of
my voice, resounding… cause I need these niggas to turn into gods

Asante sana, nakupenda, la la salama…

Shila Iris