Adria Moses

I’ve lived with Crohn’s disease for 20 years of my life. It is my most intimate relationship. The one I know best.

Over the years, I’ve learned this poem in lesson: that illness does not create abandonment.

It has this unique way of shedding those invested in your wellbeing from those who simple lack capacity.

It is a wonderful, grieve-ful thing that I’ve learned to be grateful for.

Comment HEAL and I’ll send you link to this book🫶🏼

In 3 weeks, Towards What Hurt Will exist in the world!!!

From Cali to NY, from PhillyAIDSThrift@GiovannisRoom to Source Booksellers, from my small Detroit apartment recovering from major surgery to your bookshelf at home.

I build altars. I trust in portals. I’m known to walk through fire and people await my return.

May this book bless you and many. Link in bio ✨

Hm.

My desire to be loved has turned into the desire to be love itself.

Did a whole lot with absolutely nothing. Fragments of the void turned into art that turned into language that turned into offerings that turned into an archive.

Core memory.

This year has been about leaning into uncertainty and using it to explore. It’s required a lot of courage plus the willingness to be brave thing. And acceptance that things may not go as planned, but they going regardless.

I love being who’ve I’ve not been in a while.

— she back.

Build altars.

I break every mold. You really can’t pour me into s**t.

I know to write everyday. Sometimes writing is mundane, but like walking, I know it’s good for something.

I move mountains. I kind of need someone with some kind of superpower (too).

“She inspired me to write.”

Prayers are poems and poems are prayers.

From Towards What Hurt. Debuting Sept. 8th. Link in bio 🫶🏼

i painted these during a sunny day in April. PICC line still in my right arm; I moved tubes out of the way to create these.

i let my hand warm up to over 15 renditions of the cover. these were 8 of the final that made the cut and led to the final cover.

every stroke got smoother. every vision of what i was going for came out in patience. in envisioning what the spirit looks like when its moving towards something… notice how it walks off the matte paperback.

the spine. the arms. maybe you see stitches. some see pain simply painted. it is my art, and it is up for interpretation.

the last slide is the one that made it. Towards What Hurt debuts in 1 month. bookstores are ordering it and hundreds have already claimed their signed preorder. link in bio.

When people say I don’t “look like I’ve had surgery,” I want to gently remind them:

there is a spirit inside every body,
carrying what cannot be seen.

Three lines from “Lemons in the Sun,” page 52 in Towards What Hurt.