My Muse lives there in all the rivers that bathed a generation of women who anointed me “writer.”
It is the story of my grandmother’s grandmother that has hoisted my riding skirts so I might fly beyond rivers where blood is born. My Muse lives there in all the rivers that bathed a generation of women who anointed me “writer.” My Muse has never been confused about her role as connector to an ancestral wellspring that feeds me all the language, color, musicality, and power that my pens need for the telling inside this dance with pens that stitch and restitch stories that need birthing.