When I was a junior in college, I decided to apply to a program in Cachoeira, Brazil. This program was a week of studying at The Black Feminist School. This was my first trip flying solo to another country.

when I arrived it was just starting.

the music from under my window began to leap across the river.

harvesting sounds under the palm leaves.

the band played all night long as the children danced in circles.

the adults and grown folk sat at card tables on the cobbles

stones drinking, mesmerized by the sight in front of them.

we all joined them.

we sat down and ordered beers for the table newly introduced

and un-strangering one another.

we all began to undress ourselves.

we needed no permission.

I saw black women of every shape, form, and dimension expose herself.

we spoke in our own languages.

we laughed and touched skin, running hands over every surface

until we were raw and smelt of each other’s home countries.

we were teaching each other how to fall in love.

we reached inside one another’s throats and pulled out

stories that needed no translations.

I felt sure something was coming.

that was the first night I ever saw the moon smile.

Cachoeria Lullaby, Doriana Diaz (2019)

bahia

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