I found comfort.

“A dance full of life and celebrating life” – what first came to my mind when I thought about the piece.
“Who constructs death like this?!” – Moor Mother
“The dark is a myth, there just isn’t light” – Tanerelle
“I find comfort in the knowledge that Acarajé is Acara” – thought I had during the artist talk.

I found comfort. As I sat between institutional walls beside my loved ones I became a grown-up and found deep comfort in what I was witnessing.

Deep in the ocean, in an area of sea – unknown to (wo)mankind – there is freedom. Freedom of war crimes, freedom of shackles, freedom of genocidal atrocities, freedom of systematic exclusion, freedom to exist.

Ecosystems that support life are in place without being disrupted and annihilated by intrusion. Species inhabiting that area are free to live peacefully with each other in the dark, soft and safe depths of the ocean.

From these depths emerge creatures that carry the souls and spirits of those who were kidnapped and taken across the Atlantic on ships to be traded as chattel in an immense apparatus of human trafficking.

They are an amalgam of stardust. Ancestors as well as living beings in present times bearing generations yet to come.

Then, She enters the space. She is Me and I am Her when I am older in the future, as well as whenever I am wise and responsible in the now. Aunty Muse has seen it all before, even though it is also happening right now in front of her eyes. Time is cyclical. There is an idea that feels like a memory: the dark, soft and safe depths of the ocean, where total freedom exists. Perhaps a womb?

The depths of the amniotic fluid glow beneath golden veils of light. Glittering cells drift through the atmosphere, merging into chemical bonds and swelling in volume before fragmenting into five shapes that begin to dance in unity – like a murmuration of birds moving across the sky. Murmurations are performed before sleep to confuse and scare away predators. Softly rustling tails, screams blending into a low, continuous sound that cushions my ears. It is but a lullaby, a call to delicious rest and recuperation.

What appears shallow on the surface is deep. In the soil there are minerals, water, air, and organic matter. In the soil there are roots, blood and seeds buried within. An amalgam of stardust fights in silence. The silence is felt through movements that stretch, bounce and run down and then rise again, defying gravity, like deep purple-black jelly. The fight is fought alone, sometimes against itself, sometimes outward, until it quiets down, drowning into what lies beneath. It becomes a seed. Nutrients drip down into the puddle, seeping into the soil like veins. Soon the seed will become a sprout, from which plants and trees will grow, creating new generations that will see the day and night.

I found comfort. I found comfort in understanding what I saw as an expression of my history, and the histories of global majorities in Abya Yala, Alkebulan and Carib, Arawak and Taíno islands. I found a comfort so ancient that I know those before me felt it, and those who come after me will feel it too.

Enesi M. is a vocalist, writer and aspiring producer who fuses heavy metal and cold wave sounds with hip hop, deconstructed club, reggaeton and baile funk rhythms. She pairs harsh, guttural vocals with raps and sung harmonies while refusing to conform to one genre, and going through the whole spectrum of emotions lyrically.