One of the highlights of this year is my return to poetry. It all started with the poem Switching (also titled Transitions), which I wrote for the exhibition On the Vastness of our Identities in Arles. I absolutely loved the curator’s idea of turning my reading into a sound installation and having the poem translated into Polish, Yoruba, and French.

It was such a pleasure to be part of this project, collaborating with talented visual artists. While the exhibition in Arles has come to an end, I’m in ongoing conversations with the curator about participating in On the Vastness of our Identities 2.0 in Bordeaux next year. I’m looking forward to that!

But poetry didn’t just find me through exhibitions this year.

It also resurfaced in a beautiful way through a book project I have just completed for a client—a tribute to the Jamaican Canadian icon, Louise Bennett Coverley, also known as Miss Lou. Miss Lou was a poet, folklorist, and cultural revolutionist who championed Jamaican Patois and culture both at home and abroad. This book, which celebrates her life and enduring legacy, is filled with essays, poems, and memories from people who knew and loved her. It’s a joyful tribute to a woman who left an indelible mark on Jamaican and Caribbean heritage.

I’ve truly enjoyed working on this project, it’s certainly one of this year’s highlights for me. There’s something special about helping to bring stories like these into the world, stories that need to be shared. They remind me of the power of words, diversity, culture, and language, and how they can connect us across time and borders.

I hope to start writing poetry again the way I used to—just for the love of it. These days, though, as I find myself supporting other writers with their incredible stories (which I truly love doing), I feel like I’m in a different creative space. It’s not the right moment for me to generate those organic, uninfluenced (not consciously) thoughts that used to flow so easily. And it’s okay; I don’t feel the need to force them. When the time is right—when I’m ready or the poems are ready—they’ll come.

I’ve always said that I don’t believe in writer’s block. Instead, I see it as simply the ebb and flow of creative energy. There’s time to write, and there’s time not to. For me, right now seems to be the time for helping others publish their works, contributing to the world through their inspiring stories I’ve had the privilege to influence.

I luv good stories, whether they come through my own writing or through the work I do as a book midwife of sorts, helping others give birth to their books. And though I’ll continue mixing in some of my own words—be it through exhibitions in France or other creative outlets—my current focus is very much on editing and publishing other people’s tales.

Having said all that, I’ve started writing a memoir that explores my first West African and my mixed heritage experiences. Then again, I feel like I can’t complete this book until I visit Nigeria—the country of my father, which I’ve never visited before… but will, hopefully, soon.

We’ve always told stories — they’re what shape history and help us remember. Storytelling is such an essential and unique part of the human experience.

If you’d like to watch more of my story, including behind-the-scenes moments from the exhibition in France, please visit my YouTube channel, Afropean Monika, and check out this vlog.

Thank you for stopping by, I appreciate you!