before starting her blood, she tends to break glass. she is\u00a0washing dishes. there is a\u00a0crisp sound of shattering glass. a shard will have found itself lodged in the flesh of her palm. crimson will trickle into the sink.<\/span><\/p>\n that night she dreams of water roaring evenly from glistening faucets of silver on every wall. fragments of bright\u00a0light float across her body. brilliant flashes that spread across her flesh. crystallized patterns etch themselves on her skin.\u00a0she holds a brown baby to her breast as she lays in a tub filled with clear, sweet smelling water. \u201cdarling, honey child\u201d.\u00a0in whispered incantations, she conjures protective shields. the child that feeds from her body, peers at her with soft, brown eyes. wet with love. there is warmth all over. as they are lulled in this gently moving water.<\/span><\/p>\n this is the spirit of Yemay\u00e1 come to visit.<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n Dreams.\u00a0We must tune in closely to the bits of news they bring us.\u00a0They carry messages from the spirit realm. Grandmother has sent news. That her darling-honey-child must survive. Shange, a witch who, in her flesh, carries the spirits of mothers from centuries past, knows this. It must be the reason she noted<\/a> \u00a0her dreams. Black women divine destinies and access the memories of our past selves through dreams. We know sleep isn’t only for resting. Our work begins with the darkness that descends upon our consciousness. We fashion our vulnerable bodies into altars. Sacred sites of divination. In our most humble state of peace, the spirits come. They bring us news. This darling-honey-child must survive.<\/p>\n
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