Genteel and jolly.
dressed in
white
Surrounded by petals
The color of the sun.
Traveling the speed of sound,
Crossing over top of the
Hill
Into her mothers living room,
her other son
Waits.
Untils she finishes
Breaksfast or beauty tips
Or bouncing
Blessings
Off baby sister while
Brothers check in
Periodically
fellowshipping in earnest
terms Asking for grace,
As mother Mary humbly
imparts causal wisdom
continuing
To accessorize in love.
And commonsense,
As style is to
class
And in this Cannon
house of Couture
praise,
All are running
late for school but
Never tardy in
Service.
So we exit swiftly,
I sleepy and tired from
Tradition
Her smiling and singing
Because of it.
Buckle
up.
As the spirit moves
Us the back way thru
promised land,
Windows down with
The breeze as my alarm
Clock
No ten and two
position needed
only her nude knee
as a guide
Jesus as her co pilot
as she finishes her
full brown face in
The rear view
mirror
We arrive on familiar ground.
Off by the creek
Where baptism
Is more than
a dipped deity, Its
history
Community congregating,
knowing across the pasture
Life isnt Always greener
For our skin tone must
lean on everlasting
arms
1st lesson
learned by
ear
2nd,
that the Son’s day
is the most segregated
For a
reason
We have two mount moriah’s to climb.
And the lily is a vast valley
Of trials and the morning star
Just revealed its light
8 beats ago
In poly rhythmic
African
isms.
What thou calleth voo doo
Us steeped in steeple
Customs
calls it the holy
spirit,
Though all will make thee welcomed
We just dont have time
To teach ritual.
It must be
engrained,
passed down generously like
An offering or cautious as
communion
We enter,
Social formalities
And genuine pleasantries
Exchanged,
Hymns connect us
To the cross we each must bear,
As ushers direct movement
Songs fill the walls
As well as wailing screams
Of released
burdens
pastoral figures excorise
Meaning while flocks
Turn to the middle
of the passage to relate
This is
sacred.
And there is no benediction
Only open doors
Tired children, just waking
renewed parents, still
contemplating
Walking in
just as they come,
As we were.
Full of
Hope.
Rising on one accord,
Only judgement
and unused programs
Left in the
pews.
A sea of Sunday’s
best dressed
women covered
In off white
Waving like a flag
Ready to surrender its
Soul,
Men loosening patterned nooses
from around necks
To take a full breath
Adjourned.
We shake, hug
and exit back
Of house hours
After being watched
between You and
me.
All parties gather to break
Bread with whomsoever
cooked whatsoever
feast.
Never absent from one
another for too long.
I wait for her voice to
Serenade a
signal,
Unlock the door
Watch the heatwave leave
Tight quarters,
til leather and metal
Recover from sunburn,
Buckle
down.
Return home bypass
This way.
Lee Lee is still
singing
Leaving hints of
Whats cookin besides her
Faith.
Quentin Talley 