“Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah
Pilgrim through this barren land
I am weak, but Thou art mighty
Hold me with Thy powerful hand”
—William Williams (Welsh minister and hymn writer/composer)
1745

“..for when I am weak,
then I am strong”
But I am a wounded warrior
A baby’s gentle breath
I am blown into the heavens
As dandelion fluff
I sail on a Summer breeze
Kissed by a child
Never sure which wish
Wispy and floating
Will grow into a yellow flower

Conversation on a Balcony

February 8, 2020

“Is that Sojourner Truth?”
I asked in struck surprise
She was sitting on the ledge
outside a gathering
high above the street
feet dangling
I climbed out the window
and sat next to her
“Are you Sojourner Truth?!”
I asked, still stunned
“Yes” she replied
eyes focused forward
long back in perfect posture
straight as my Aunt Sally’s
in Acworth by her wood stove

We talked a while
I don’t remember all that was spoken
but this I am certain of
and will never forget, because it is True!

“But weren’t you a slave?” I asked
In simple curious pitch
She responded in her own
patient serenity, power
Inward and lurching
Strength pouring from her
Prophetess tongue
The Sojourner
the Pioneer
the Follower of Jesus
even in tent meetings
when apples are thrown
at white people’s conferences
when the Spirit hush fell
“Ain’t I a woman?!”
Good God, YES!

But it was to me,
to me, only me,
my legs dangling too
She turned and said,
“They thought I was, but I wasn’t.”

Sojourner, stay
Don’t let me awake.

Dreamy

October 25, 2016

The lines are blurred
Boundaries broken
As day and night merge

Dreams blanket my spirit
Hard to distinguish
The sleep
The wakeful birth