words & art by shé

bookshelf

Tag: power

  • BeLoved

    Quizá puedo ir a conocer Habibi cuando obscurezca, wrote a friend. Maybe I can get to know the Beloved when it’s dark. At first I didn’t understand. And then I realized that he really is an angel, telling me the truth of life, whether he knows it or not.  I came to know the Beloved when my life was…

  • Olas

    “Surfer dude!” said a woman as I walked back from a session, board on head. I smiled. Mazatlán has waves. Olas, in Spanish. Which sounds like Hola. Which means hello. Hello, waves! It’s been a while. “Te quiero,” I texted recently. I love you. Radio silence ensued, yet I’m glad I sent the message. I…

  • Night Sailing

    I did not know I would love sailing at night. No fear, just endless sea and stars. The sound of Habibi’s hull parting the ocean into bioluminescent waves. Wind filling the sails. Learning the navigation system. Keeping watch. Singing. Resting in the cockpit, swaddled in blankets, supremely content. I have always loved the peace and…

  • Capitana

    “¿Capitana?” asks Guillermina, the manager of Marina Mazatlán. Are you the Captain? “Sí,” I reply, yes, and she smiles widely. A man comes in the office while I am signing the docking contract. “She is the Captain,” she brags, and he gives me a thumbs-up. Role model! Because I am doing what I am supposed…

  • Playlist

    I’d been hearing the opening riff to “Hello I Love You” in my head for days, so I finally latched onto a friend’s Starlink and YouTubed it. Followed by “Sledgehammer,” of course, and “Come Out and Play.” Danced my ass off in the cockpit. To top it off, I played “Ya Habibi” and floated around…

  • Branded

    I’ve got it bad. I took a Sharpie to the pale blue hoodie and wrote Habibi’s name on the back, adding silver spritzes to the i’s. Retrieved the freshly washed cotton dresses — one grey, one black — and did it again, adding a red heart to the grey one. Some folks doodle their first…

  • Double Fire

    “You are double fire,” says Kokomon after the drumming meditation. “Your father is fire; you are double fire.” I do not ask him what he means, my bones know: I am more powerful than I believe. I can protect myself. It takes a long time — decades — to understand this. I am not stuck.…

  • Essay #8: power or protection

    There is a Norway Spruce in the front yard – 40 or 50 feet tall, evergreen and gorgeous, it shields me from my neighbors’ view. When the setting sun hits it, the trunk turns golden orange. I look at this tree often: when I’m writing, eating, chopping vegetables. It has protected and shaded me for…