My ancestors set the stage.
My grandmother opened the show - the show to this journey, to this gift.
You ignored me.
You silenced my voice.
I couldn’t name the oppression that I lived, that I observed and that I felt.
I fought for this freedom
It came at a high price.
I was given the key.
You failed to protect me.
I unlocked the door to my gift, my passion, my truth.
God was my witness and my guide.
These papers and writing were my records.
Time has past and freedom has come.
I have to go back and free some others.
A freedom that was earned with the sweat of a brow, unspoken truth, raw feelings, with supernatural interventions.
God speed. His power in me.
I went back a few times to get more.
Underground. Divine lead.
Chains still linger, but we are working on finding liberty as one.
Delivered and healed, hopeful.
Change is hard. Change can feel like a fight. A desire for change can keep you up at night.
Hope is here, a time is near.
To leave a world that is more inclusive of all who hear, who see, and who dream.
Heal this drought and restore our living, restore the love, the capacity to heal and to come together.
Unity birthed during the chaos.
What can we do to overcome this pain?
Can I express myself in writing? Can that heal this deeply felt strain?
Hand in Hand – Let’s work together.
Will it be received?
How many negative stories will replay on the TV screen. Stop the reel.
God hears and he sees.
No more chains are holding me. I want to see more people free.
That healing and change can start with you and me.
- Dani P.