Ethel's Sestina

Ethel Freeman's body sat for days in her wheelchair outside the New Orleans Convention Center. Her son Herbert, who had assured his mother that help was on the way, was forced to leave her there once she died.

Gon’ be obedient in this here chair, 

gon’ bide my time, fanning against this sun. 

I ask my boy, and all he says is Wait. 

He wipes my brow with steam, says I should sleep. 

I trust his every word. Herbert my son. 

I believe him when he says help gon’ come. 

Been so long since all these suffrin’ folks come 

to this place. Now on the ground ’round my chair, 

they sweat in my shade, keep asking my son 

could that be a bus they see. It’s the sun 

foolin’ them, shining much too loud for sleep, 

making us hear engines, wheels. Not yet. Wait. 

Lawd, some folks prayin’ for rain while they wait, 

forgetting what rain can do. When it come, 

it smashes living flat, wakes you from sleep, 

eats streets, washes you clean out of the chair 

you be sittin’ in. Best to praise this sun, 

shinin’ its dry shine. Lawd have mercy, son, 

is it coming? Such a strong man, my son. 

Can’t help but believe when he tells us, Wait. 

Wait some more. Wish some trees would block this sun. 

We wait. Ain’t no white men or buses come, 

but look—see that there? Get me out this chair, 

help me stand on up. No time for sleepin’, 

cause look what’s rumbling this way. If you sleep 

you gon’ miss it. Look there, I tell my son. 

He don’t hear. I’m ’bout to get out this chair, 

but the ghost in my legs tells me to wait, 

wait for the salvation that’s sho to come. 

I see my savior’s face ’longside that sun. 

Nobody sees me running toward the sun. 

Lawd, they think I done gone and fell asleep. 

They don't hear Come. 

Come. 

Come. 

Come. 

Come. 

Come. 

Come. 

Ain’t but one power make me leave my son. 

I can’t wait, Herbert. Lawd knows I can’t wait. 

Don’t cry, boy, I ain’t in that chair no more. 

Wish you coulda come on this journey, son, 

seen that ol’ sweet sun lift me out of sleep. 

Didn’t have to wait. And see my golden chair?

--Patricia Smith (1955- ), award-winning African American poet, professor, poetry slam champion

Hurricane Katrina made landfall (for the second time after crossing Florida) near New Orleans on this day and at this hour in 2005.

Requiem

Mother Mary, full of grace, awaken 
All our homes are gone, our loved ones taken 
Taken by the sea

Mother Mary, calm our fears, have mercy
Drowning in a sea of tears, have mercy
Hear our mournful plea

Our world has been shaken
We wander our homelands forsaken

In the dark night of the soul
Bring some comfort to us all
Oh mother Mary come and carry us in your embrace
That our sorrows may be faced

Mary, fill the glass to overflowing
Illuminate the path where we are going
Have mercy on us all

In funeral fires burning
Each flame to your mystery returning

In the dark night of the soul
Your shattered dreamers, make them whole
Oh Mother Mary find us where we've fallen out of grace 
Lead us to a higher place

In the dark night of the soul
Our broken hearts you can make whole 
Oh Mother Mary come and carry us in your embrace
Let us see your gentle face, 
Mary

--Eliza Gilkyson (1950- ) American singer-songwriter, from the album Paradise Hotel, 2005. This song was written in response to the Asian tsunami in December 2004.

An interview with Eliza about the song as a vehicle for grieving was aired in NPR's All Things Considered, and can be heard here,

and you can watch her talking about it below:

The most notable chorale arrangement is by Craig Hella Johnson, performed here by Conspirare, from their 2009 album A Company of Voices: