When my mother went to claim her place in the promised land, I entered into a wilderness. It is here, in this temperate climate, where I remain tested— trekking in Israelite-fashion. My view of the wilderness is not pristine nor panoramic. It’s finite and cloudy— overtaken by trees and processes of decay. Grassland grazes my thigh and I can’t fathom what’s beneath me. I stand by in this eerily quiet, desolate place that no one wants to exist in.

I find myself here. And I wait with my concrete heart. I wait with the rain beating down and soothing me concurrently. I wait athirst…

for answers. 

On big things: 

phenomena,  

deliverance, 

reclamation. 

I wait on the sun’s grand jeté. 

Standing on the tough terrain, I attempt to redefine every single one of my relationships, including the one with my Abba Father. Everything is different in the wilderness. Everything is new. You don’t gain back former things here.

I wait for a thing to be healed and perfected in me so that I can find sanctuary in a place so finite… and soar freely— victoriously— through these wilds

like an eagle.



Clinnesha is a wife, mom, daughter/sister/auntie, literary artist, humanities scholar, and social entrepreneur. Her advocacy work is at the intersection of black/feminist thought, arts, culture, and community. She is currently promoting her book of personal narratives, Serenity Everyday, a passion project adapted from this blog.