I thought about y’all, all the way home. I had me some time. I set your faces on my screen saver. They are fixed like flint; they’ve had to be and they’ll have to be. I think of you each individually, your losses, your longings, your sorrows, your slaughter, and your strength. God help me, your strength.
I think about you.
I think of the traces of trauma that you find runs in rivulets of ruin, slipping down your sweet cheeks. I think about the rumble and the reckoning that has been and that will be. I think about the tenderness, the toughness, the complicated grief, the uncovering of the corruption, the revelation of victimization, the staggering sorrow, the palpating anger that your Christianity would not let you feel, but that your Christ does.
I think about you.
I think about your partners; your parenting; your presence; your personhood; your projects; even your precious pets. I think about the many paths you plod; the high cost; the isolation; the astounding loss.
I think about you.
I think about the boys. The beautiful, fresh-faced vulnerable boys who wanted to belong but were betrayed instead. I think about the girls, the tender, trusting girls where special became sexually abusive and stolen.
I think about you.
I think about the woman who, in exercising her many gifts, entered and was eventually exiled, from the den of a thief. I think about the ones who sat silent, whose words hung like the lynched in the room, whose lips said nothing and whose eyes said everything.
I think about you.
I think about your resilience; your transcendence; your persistence; your perseverance. I think about the solidarity; the smiles; the company; the companionship; the willingness to get in the ring of not only your ruin, but each other’s and stay.
I think about you.
While the plane is entering my land, my heart remains in yours. The land where what was ruined is being rebuilt; what was unspoken is being said; what was unknown is revealed; what was whispered in the dark is being shouted in the light; what was stolen is returned; what was crucified is resurrected.
With admiration and affection,
LA