Rebuiding Church (A Poem)
Got to scrappin’, grappling
With Deshae
out some windows
And Mt. Landing
Out the others.
Her pews grip
150 Black years
Of Essex County History
Refusing to gut
those hymnals.
She made music
Through many a hurricane,
Annexed vacation bible school,
And buried our dead.
We wound up those roads
Closing the gap
between the promise and poverty
Every Sunday
To celebrate
Our candid selves;
Church is as much the building
As the people.
Climate change can’t erode
The clay and gravel memories that creak
When you stand on them right.
It eats away at the river’s edges,
Drowns muskrats,
Tells a tornado
Tappahannock is strong enough
To recover.
We had to find God
When tears taste like catastrophe
But run like Hoskins creek,
Run like our only safety Is the bathtub
From a rented trailer,
Run like toxic stewardship and displacement are
good enough excuses.
Recovery ain’t
a 12 step program.
It’s –
Red Cross been gone
And all we got is us:
Wading through debris
Frying fish
Cherishing communion cups
Polishing the collection plate
Building funds
In the foraged and forgotten fields
Again,
We erect that steeple.
We bred the dogs in this fight
With leftover liberation and lack
Suckling oppression until it was
Salt on Watermelon Sweet
cutting their teeth
By not crying victim
But seething,
Sanguine
And muddy.
Black ecologies
Have no liturgy
Just legacy
Lived experiences
On decimated logging farms
60 miles from the Confederate Capital.
Suffrage so nonchalant
Stars are closer
Than the preacher’s benediction
And louder than that whistle.
Copyright © AAIHS. May not be reprinted without permission.
I’ve never been to Tappahanock, however reading this literature took me on a journey there; documentary style. The author helped us use all of our senses in this piece of ardent creativity. Well done.
Deeply moving. So grounded in the real and in hope (which is also the real). Keep erecting that steeple.