“This, Too, I Carefully Explored: Even Though The Actions Of Godly And Wise People Are In God’s Hands,
“This, too, I carefully explored: Even though the actions of godly and wise people are in God’s hands, no one knows whether God will show them favor. The same destiny ultimately awaits everyone, whether righteous or wicked, good or bad, ceremonially clean or unclean, religious or irreligious. Good people receive the same treatment as sinners, and people who make promises to God are treated like people who don’t. It seems so wrong that everyone under the sun suffers the same fate. Already twisted by evil, people choose their own mad course, for they have no hope. There is nothing ahead but death anyway. There is hope only for the living. As they say, “It’s better to be a live dog than a dead lion!” The living at least know they will die, but the dead know nothing. They have no further reward, nor are they remembered. Whatever they did in their lifetime—loving, hating, envying—is all long gone. They no longer play a part in anything here on earth. So go ahead. Eat your food with joy, and drink your wine with a happy heart, for God approves of this! Wear fine clothes, with a splash of cologne! Live happily with the woman you love through all the meaningless days of life that God has given you under the sun. The wife God gives you is your reward for all your earthly toil. Whatever you do, do well. For when you go to the grave, there will be no work or planning or knowledge or wisdom. I have observed something else under the sun. The fastest runner doesn’t always win the race, and the strongest warrior doesn’t always win the battle. The wise sometimes go hungry, and the skillful are not necessarily wealthy. And those who are educated don’t always lead successful lives. It is all decided by chance, by being in the right place at the right time. People can never predict when hard times might come. Like fish in a net or birds in a trap, people are caught by sudden tragedy.”
Ecclesiastes 9 NLT
More Posts from Nova-rose-greene and Others
My Imaginary Aesthetic
Fierce and Flawless ✌🏾
@ nestreya
When did my face look like this
How did I get to my 20s
When did I grow up
How much more growing do I have left?
When will I notice next
What I will notice next
It’s crazy
All this awareness is incredible
And I love that education is being pushed
But it’s also triggering
For some reason I feel like I want to share this information
But I don’t want to be an advocate because it feels like I’m advocating myself as a victim
as a person who has a storie
As a survivor
The awareness of sexual assault is triggering
I want to help someone
And yet I don’t want to advertise that I can help because I’ve had my own experiences too
I don’t want you to wonder about me
I don’t want you to ask me questions
I’ve been trying to figure out how to heal on my own
Sometimes if I need to I talk about it
Sometimes if I’m the confidant , then I’ll share my experience for the both of us to find peace
But idky posting a flyer is nerve racking
Idky having my art be apart of an awareness exhibition is odd
My art came from a place of pain
My art is therapeutic
And I took a chance to submit my piece and now that I’ve been selected
I feel weird
I was assaulted numerous times by numerous people and I still don’t know how to talk about it
I’ve recently discovered that sometimes the art I make resembles artwork of other survivors
Why does pain look the same
How can I not explain my feelings but my art can
And why does displaying my art feel like I’m displaying my trauma and asking people to be proud of me ? Or to analyze ? And ask questions??
Idky this gives me so much panic
It feels paradoxical
I feel trapped all over again
I want to help
I don’t want this to happen to anyone else
Ever
But I also don’t want to talk about it publicly
Idk how
“Go Away”
A story and a Ramble
A little girl rides a bike into a candy shop
The shop owner hands her a lollipop the size of her head. She gives the owner a dollar, they give her back a nickel.
The little girl takes the nickel over to a jukebox and slides it thought the slot.
Her lollipop hits a buttons before she can even tip toe high enough to look into the glass.
A reggae rock guitar burst out of the juke box
The little girl jumps back in astonishment
The guitars blares and snares
It twist and turns until the little girl has risen to her feet to dance with the music of the moment
A women comes running into the shop
She sees her daughter dancing with this music and snatched her up
DONT EVER LEAVE MY SITE
She drags the little girl out and leaves the shop in a warmth that awaits its next customer
Mother and daughter travel down the street
Daughter waves at each person they pass
The flower man and his beautiful bouquet hair piece
The waiter taking a smoke outside the cafe
The old women feeding a stray cat
The three kids skipping rope outside of an adbandon convience store
They travel to the end of the next street, Where mother places daughter next to her on the bench.
Waiting for the next bus.
A jogger and his dog run by
The little girl counts the clouds in the sky
And older couple approaches the bench.
The little girl jumps up to make room
“oh no sweet heart”
“We’re doing just fine”
“Take a seat”
“We insist”
THANKS!
“And so polite”
“How old are you my dear
The girl looks to her mother for confirmation to talk to these strangers
“Oh she’s just shy”
“Oh I bet”
“Well you’re a very pretty young thing”
“Georgous as a goddess”
“And I’m sure just as smart as any princess would be? Am I right”
YES
She speaks with no hesitation
The compliments brought roses to her cheeks
And a smile that stretched to reveal each section of teeth
“OH WOW”
“THAT SMILE”
“what’s the square root of 144”
12!
“OOOOOOOOO”
Collectively everyone exclaims
The bus pulls up
They’re ready to go
And for the first time
All day the little girl is greeted with a white face behind the doors and behind the wheel
How many white faces did you see?
How many black faces?
How many different colors did you imagine?
How many shapes?
What about about bodies?
Who were these people
Who were they to you
If you saw them differently did it change the story
What story?
Why them
What happened
What if this was all just to tell you a story about black faces
Black faces
BLACK faces
Black bodies
Black conciseness
Maybe I wanted to imagine a flower bouquet on a black mans head
Now that he’s black do you see an Afro?
Or is he bald?
Is he identified as he biologically?
Or socially
Why him
Why flowers
What’s his story
What’s the girls story
Who does she become
How does she see the world
What is the world
What world do we want
What world do we see
What world do we hear
What world do we know
What
What
What why
What
Huh
Okay.
Black face
Not paint
Black face
Face
Human
A story of people who reflect what we know and what we don’t know.
The close and the unknown, the unexplored, the ... question mark? What did we really do here?
I Will Never Again Speak Another Negative Word
I will say I can , instead of I can*t.
It’s no longer a word in my vocabulary.
