Ahmaud and George

I see Jesus.
In the face crushed into
Knee on neck,
Power of might
Gone to the head,
Popping in vein and vision.
Destruction in the
Rod and scepter.
Where every impulse,
Yes, the very call itself,
Should be shepherd protection.
I cannot look.
He’s Someone’s son.
Oh, Someone, I am
I know you know the
Helpless mother-ache that permeates
The waking hours.
For motherhood is at the lungs and heart,
The veins and blood,
The precious skin, too; it is
Utterly unifying.
All mothers’ hearts beat alike. They cry,
Save the offspring-flesh who hold my breath!
Mary watched and bled.

Ahmaud, George, my sons, too.
What can I do for you?
Love your mothers? Ok.
I can do that.
Other tasks for other people.
I will love your mothers.
Quilt made for Wanda Cooper-Jones in honor of her son Ahmaud Arbery.


The Promise Stands

Encircled, pristine,
Celestial with life,
Aroma so pure – edible –
Of the rushing power of
Let there be, and
It was good.

Each blade a throat,
Each limb a response,
That the promise stands,
Vibrating, pulsing, in a
Hidden, green Eden:

All your children shall be taught
By the Lord!
Great shall be the
Peace of your


Isaiah 54: 13