The choir concludes the service

We are eyes closed, air drawn to hands raised.

They sing because they happy

back in church

With bodies

always with bodies

Someone is screaming, tongue defying hymn

And yes, how far away we are

I miss him too.

His voice always singing familiar

haunts trumpet blaring

Sunday mornings.

Dark eyes and skin, wide smile, no teeth.

Fearless at 5 singing gospels with no concept of holding tight to strength in the lyrics. My ancestors and their ancestors. Am I listening?

I lose myself in years. I am not

Singing anymore. These chords have twisted themselves into the back of songs, I am

Writing, not singing or speaking.

Cottonmouth. I am sitting staunch against pews, leaning into worn piano keys. Foundation stains, and eyes watching, chestnut brown like mine. G in the key that breaks into silence. I hear a hymn being hummed, bacon cooked and waiting.

Memory tells me it is time to open my mouth

I sing 'cause I’m free.