Juneteenth 2015

Feeling the rain come
cave-cool air, white
and empty but for
the breeze.
Still water rushing
the trees, sleepy
birds sitting at rest
call out the change
while tone on tone chimes
echo from far below.
The drops fall –
spare, invisible, too few.
My dry, gray lawn
is thirsty and longs
for a drenching, healing
the brittle, breakable land.
Hollow grasses like so many
hollow words, ache to be
filled, water that would wash
away this dusty, aching
emptiness.
Dear God, may it pour.
c. Jody Lee Collins 2015
~~~~~~~~

Juneteenth is the oldest nationally celebrated commemoration of the ending of slavery in the United States. From its Galveston, Texas origin in 1865, the observance of June 19th as the African American Emancipation Day has spread across the United States and beyond.  I couldn’t help thinking as this poem came to me last night how the hatred of black people in this country is still very much alive.  My heart breaks for Charleston.

Similar Posts

  • Prepositions-A Poem of Praise

    Overcome by the quaking  power of God’s sweet presence Around the shoulders of  friend-draped worshippers Across the room to the children raising,  praising, lifting small hands Surrounded by incarnations of God  in these multi-colored people Next to sweet-voiced sisters  and deep-throated men, I’m looking~~eyes up and over and through the windows,  past the summer-waving trees…

  • Words at Dusk

    the lights have left the leaves, golden brilliance turned out like a  glowing candle quieted by the wind.   the leaves float and rustle, voices, too, carried by the breeze to this place atop a hill– a slanted receptacle for sound forcing it upwards  to my ears. I’m hidden–He’s not. I hear Him. He’s here.

  • Truer Gifts

    Twelve minutes after two the blinking red face confirms as I waken wondering, why? I was so very tired and now I am N O T. the pulsing numbers push me back—a book, a bowl of cereal, a bending black case with another glowing face and I click and read, peruse the people saying something I…

  • Living Room

    What does it take to feel alive?Warm sun, a fresh breeze, the breath of God.Peace, quiet, the creak of a floor,chiming of a bell in the distance,the tinkling of a cat’s bell.The fragrance of a morning rose and fresh coffee.The purr of a fan, the taste of a peachthe drone of a bee,the deep in and out…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *