We Float

I am Emma, I can float through city streets, hearing, not comprehending, seeing more than seeking; I am Emma, muted puffs of powdered sky drift over the high, cold buildings. I rest in the translucent voices, radiate in the hums and ahs; I am Emma. Rich with history, my path well worn connects me through language, written, read, recited. I am famished for knowledge, thirsty for newness; I float on home as the train sways left and right, I am just a passenger looking out the window with my eyes closed. I am lost by choice in Waugh, Baldwin, Angelou. I am Emma, flying across the surface as you look back at me; in and out of kaleidoscope faces, no idea of who I am or why.

I am Georgia, hard-working, impoverished, strong with a well earned appetite. I drink iced tea; I like it sweet, real sweet. I take my finger and scrape bacon fat off skillets and lick it clean. I am a cotton-mouth wound around a wet stone ready to strike. And I dream. I dream of being well fed.

I am Henrietta, I feed the pigs, they eat more than me. I wear thin, semi-patched over-all's; they got holes in them; it's hot so I don't care. I am the color of an Alabama night, my hair is prickly as the tall, dry grass burnt by the summer sun. I watch ladies go into church with pretty hair and big bows on their hats; I wouldn't mind a pair of those shiny white shoes.

I am Jade. I run fast. In the night, when it's cooler I walk into town; I love the empty streets lit up with blinking yellow lights; the dead end streets in this dead end town. I am a lightening bolt and I am smooth. I want to hop a bus when old enough and high tail it outta here. I smoke stolen cigarettes.

I am Sarah. I like a good story, respect my elders, long as they respect me. I am solemn, ruthful, sometimes ashamed. My women did what they had to do, I sat while they did it and drew in the dirt with sticks. I am a memory of me. I always wanted to go in somebody's house, be invited in properly and sit down and watch a DVD. I been in a DVD store, there are rows and rows of movies I might not ever see. The other kids called me coffee and cream 'cause I am from a whole lot of girls had up on the knoll, our father's passed our way heading back from the mill or one of them stinky hole bars. The likes of me the world ain't kind to, so I stick close to the house watching other babies, staying out of trouble. I dream of watching movies in an air-conditioned house.

I am Mary. I could sail a boat. I'm an old spirit, I like walking these winding sandy-dirt roads; I am of salt air, a collection of hidden beaches. I could haul in bushels of crabs, drink beer with the boys, get by on bloody sunsets and pay my own bills. I, too float. I don't mind not being seen.

I am Wren. Like the bird, you're right! I was abandoned, abused, afraid for the better part of my seventy years. My daddy was harsh; I looked too much like my mother. She died when having me. I am glad my name was Wren, 'cause I too, can fly. I flew far away and landed in my own stick house, one I built with a "nice" man when he wasn't drunk. I am big on Sunday dinners. I am of magnolias and lived among cactus.

I am Terra. I can't fly, I could float but I choose to stay here. I don't need to run and hide. I hover about an overgrown cemetery full of estranged ancestors, I smoke healing herbs and hold onto all the girls, the women and am the keeper of our roots. I am as widely spread as dandelions. I can be crazy as kudzu vines yet I am as still as a boot-legger when the beat cop rounds the corner. I contain the mixture of our mothers who were scarred, our friends who were fragile, our lover's who were bastards, our enemies who were vulnerable.

Together in one house, we are devout, new beginners, believers, fearless adventurers, unscathed by our far away lives. We love sitting outside every summer night, sharing in every kind of chit-chat and giggle on the porch steps. It's always a summer night here. Together we are Emma lying under the oak tree's shade, her orange hair draping over a borrowed book from the library; Georgia, dipping her tan bare feet into the creek, unafraid of snakes, dreams and blisters. Henrietta happy with her smooth brown skin; smiling at her beautiful platted hair. Together we are Jade, rough around the edges yet heart is a soft as a kitten. She caught that bus after all. And Sarah, well nobody knows why she loved the movies like we do. Mary we hear as one, she says all the time, "I was lonely but never told anybody". Wren; still holding those babies tight even though they all are far, far away.

We, as one, hold the unseen hands around the circle of time; we have seen savagery, miracles, been barren, rescued, sheltered, fat, hungry, raped, embarrassed, fulfilled, chased, bound and saved. Now, we sit on the steps with Terra waiting for several new friends to arrive. Lea, from somewhere with a snowy, sickly past. Mischa with an aura of beautiful silk flowers, from Japan. Karima, with stained, dried hands and thin arms, such thin, thin arms. Oh, she has a daughter in them, see! We gather, we embrace. The circle grows, breathes love, offering complete, forever understanding.

Tessa always says when our kind arrive, " It's okay. You are home. It's our house now."