For Nancy

Nancy, wife of J G Williams
Born October 12, 1821
Died April 1, 1850
She lived about ten years of her life a devoted Christian and died in the faith


To Nancy
Lying in the woods
Beside the road where I walk
Your grave stone lies flat
In the leaves and sapling trees
No one but the dear and birds
Attend your sleeping
Born one hundred years before me
You bear my name

Now you know, as you know God
Our souls are held by him from
Our conception and beyond--not just ten years
Now you know that ownership of men
And women was against his design
Now you know that we are all His
As you break bread with souls
From every tongue and tribe
Now you rest in peace

7/31/16

Yesterday, along the road where we walk, my sister and I discovered an old burial ground. Some of the markers are hard to read; some are small with no names at all--possibly infants or children. One that drew me in was the one pictured above: Nancy, wife of J G Williams. Only 29 years old when she died. What was her story? She died before the civil war; did she own slaves? I went back to the cemetery this morning, drawn in to this woman's untold story. She died 100 years before I was born, yet somehow I feel connected. Weird...

Re-Centering

Google Maps has a feature
you can use if you
stray from the predictive road.
It's an arrow labeled
Re-center.

Sometimes the news and noise
flashing through on my devices
crowds my mind and
disorients my sense of
who I really am.

I need a weekend of silence
I told my daughter.
I need to separate myself
From people's comments
And likes and whatnot.

Like Google Maps, she laughed
Press Re-center.

Abandoned...and yet (An ode to Spencer)

Sometimes I feel abandoned
By the one who could
Have shed light on this violent pathway
Could have given guidance
Could have helped us find our way

Yet as I walked this morning
Listening to Josh Groban
Sing Up Where You Are;
I cherish all you gave me...
And therein is my way forward

These children who are so precious to me
Are your gift, the presence you left behind
And while I long for your words and inspiration
I see the very things I long for and miss
In these amazing young people

In their courage...his constant prayer for himself
In their anger, sometimes harsh and cutting
In their loving tenderness, couching harsh words in grace
In their loyalty to their friends and family
In their words--spoken and written

And isn't faith believing
all power can't be seen?

Give us courage
To meet the challenges of this day
Give us hope that truth and justice will prevail
Give us strength to rise another day and another
Give us presence when we feel alone

I know you're there
A breath away's not far to where you are


These days I long for Spencer and the wisdom and insight he brought to a world of injustice and violence; wisdom learned from his own experiences of violent racism, applied to daily living. What would he be saying today? Would he go to Ferguson, to Baltimore, to Baton Rouge? In the phone calls and frantic texting and conversations with Johnathan and Jubilee and April Joy, I hear echoes of his courage and call. I see glimpses of his determination and persistence. I find wisdom and guidance and strength for my own journey, and I am reminded that we are not abandoned, just separated physically from Spencer. His words are being written from new pens; his words are being spoken through younger voices; his legacy of truth and justice now continues threefold in these amazing gifts he left with me.

Joanie, you probably don't remember, but you are the one who shared with me Josh Groban's song, Up Where You Are, after Spencer died. I couldn't listen to it very often back in those days, but recently I have found it to be so comforting and precious.