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Sandra Jean-Pierre | Digital Artist & Writer of Words.

Category: Life

Disabled Chronicles, No2e1

I casually came to know his name. He was next up to get dosed after my trial at the hospital. When I bid my awesome nurses goodbye until my next maintenance dose, I cheered on Joe (not his real name) and wished him (in absentia) and the team of nurses well and good luck. If the medication worked half as well for him as it did for me, I knew what kind of life changing experiences he was lined up

Disabled Chronicles, No.2e

Her finger landed in the space between my eyes gently, like a soft cat paw, sending a hush of quiet energy through my body and mind. “In meditation they tell Us to tap and focus here…” She couldn’t have known about the year I spent in meditation study under the Sant Mat tradition with Steve. And how before he doula’d us into the sacred silence of meditation following the teachings of Saint Kirpal Singh, he’d touch the same space between

Black Women Tears

There are tears Black Women shed, that speak of every disappointment and hurt that’s brought her to this very moment. They are tears of anguish and sometimes despair that maybe encompass never being regarded as precious, even as a GirlBaby or a WomanChild. They are tears of anger for having to do more, be more, give more and yet never being met where she stands, much less where she cries. They are tears of revolution for her gifts being plundered

Disabled Chronicles, No.2d2

After Spinraza injections, the ‘floaties’ in my eyes appear like straight lengths of ‘string’ with an impressive knot in the middle. Uniform, peculiar as my ‘normal’ floaties go, which are bendy, twisted affairs, beautiful in their organic go at existence. Plentiful when I am sick and sparse when I am properly hydrated. These ‘new’ style of floaties cut across my vision, like slow moving cargo ships, pregnant with genetically modified packages for my body. I notice them most the next

Disabled Chronicles, No.675

My feet feel like I’ve been standing on them all day. They are achy and throbby and super glad to be in bed. I did not use my fancy schmancy foldy chair to adjust myself but for one hour today… really over the past four days. I’ve been working. Planning. Dreaming. Hoping. Crying. Praying. Grounding my feet in the only thing that makes sense to me during this time of year: work. It’s Oui Color work; my main website work.

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