Water
Me and water
have always had this thing.
The way it can turn burden into feather.
The way it can carry the weight of a black woman so easily,
all the way from motherland to here.
The way it can wipe away the tears that always seem to find me.
I shower the dirty and the clean,
the pain and the healing.
I am always trying to wipe the slate clean.
Bodies of water are to be both respected and feared.
We are all walking oceans.
My mother birthed a mermaid,
her womb holy water,
because sins can be washed away.
I try to believe she got caught in a riptide,
lost her way,
leaving behind sea shells.
I have learned to swim upstream.
Going with the flow doesn’t always lead you home.
I am dark water,
pockets of joy,
bubbles of laughter.
I teach my kin we need nothing more than ourselves.
But... I dissolve my marrow into the ocean.
Offer up my skin as an island.
I want to be free again,
to know the washing of a wave.
Let it kiss the roughness of me,
gentle me in the storm.
Still, I find myself at the bottom of the bottle,
and throw the message back to sea,
but it always seems to come back to the island of me.
What if I told you floating feels like lonely?
And that my form of baptism is salt water,
would you feel sorry for the tide of me?
Trust me, I’m still relearning how to swim.
If I knew the ocean’s memories,
maybe I wouldn’t try anymore.
Call me shallow sister or mistaken mermaid.
I know the ocean knows more than I can handle,
knows of past versions of me.
I know that what it takes out with its tide are saltwater tears,
taken from tide pool graveyards,
and deep blue cemeteries.
The ocean and I are a complicated match,
it knows I really only love it when it's gentle.
Once, I wanted it to become a whale's mouth
and swallow a whole ship.
Instead, it allowed those men to find my people,
rocked those babies with waves
before they even relearned how to swim,
A decided death for those who didn’t want to risk—
learning what happens once their feet would reunite with land.
So, I think if I knew the ocean’s memories, I wouldn’t swim anymore,
never knew how to have fun at graveyards.
Still, there is a part of me that knows
that even if the ocean doesn’t claim me
that I want my ashes tossed in.
Slowly falling,
rock a bye baby,
until I am one with the sand.
No longer a Shell,
but just something,
someone’s someone.
I think if the ocean knew my memories, it would return me to shore.
In 2019, she won the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word while on the Up From The Roots slam team, becoming a National Spoken Word Champion. She has competed internationally as well, representing Canada in three American competitions.
Shelly has contributed significantly to Toronto's arts and culture scene through various professional and artistic roles. She has performed and worked for groups such as Toronto Poetry Slam (TPS), Toronto Public Library (TPL), Toronto Transit Commission (TTC), Toronto District School Board (TDSB), and more, sharing her voice across the city.
Shelly continues to be unapologetically Black, loud, giving, and a force.