I went home.

Well…to my ancestors home.

The home that they settled upon arrival.

The place where my Nana grew up.

I've been struggling with feeling rooted for a while. When I touched down in Georgia - when my feet and hands touched that soil, I felt all of my power come back to me. It welcomed me. My grandmother used to work in those Moultrie fields. Her and her family. And those that come before them.

 

It all made sense. I didn't have to see or say much, I just had to be present.

Spirit did all the talking.

 

I've been having visions of this place, and I've known that I needed to be in the south.

I haven't been to Moultrie in over 20 years, since my great-grandfather died.

I didn't imagine my homecoming to be for a homegoing, but NO REGULAR SHIT.

 

I sat where my great-grand parents, great aunts, and other family members were buried and I simply breathed. One of the illest things you can do in honor of your ancestors is to BREATHE. I sat on the land where my great-grandfather owned and built a house for his family to enjoy, and I breathed. I felt my peoples.

All I have to say is BRING IT TF ON!