just a little something i wrote about the culture i love so much.

The old women in their hats sit in the front pews with
Little children gathered at their feet to hear their stories -
Unaware of the wisdom they are taking in.
Simply enthralled with the tale of a bird, and a woman:
Blind. Wise.

The sweltering Southern summer breeze drifts -
Lazily through the open windows.

The preacher raises his arms.

"Let us be thankful (yes)
I said Let us be thankful (yes, Lawd)
For all the good in our lives."

Heads in the congregation nod their agreement in unison.

The choir stands and sings songs of freedom.

They are here.
Mr. Hughes,
Dr. King.
Their spirits, palpable.

The rich harmonies wash over us,
Floating effortlessly on the thick, sticky-sweet air:

"Oh freedom. Oh freedom. Oh freedom over me!"

Amen, brother. Amen.

"spirituals"  |  a.