Spirit: —I have heard the spirituals
Frederick heard: —In those dense old woods: —
Moving: —Though not knowing it: —Toward you
Without a mother’s hand covering his hand
Without a beginning: —Those wild notes: —
I have heard them, Spirit: —Reaching: —
Through time toward me, out of a sister’s mouth
From the pulpit on Sunday morning
A voice stretching: —Almost violently: —
Stretching again even: —Like a whine: —A half step more
Up to those sharp notes beyond: —Pain’s threshold: —
I have seen the fugitive sweat bead slipping
Down the singer’s forehead: —Freedom
In those wild songs first sung to a congregation
Of trees: —First audience, first applause: —
That comforted a soul hiding
In those lonely woods: —Light dappled glory: —
Nearly: —Thank you, Spirit: —I have heard them
The spirituals in Douglass’ sentences
Which he turned into a portal: —
Which he entered in September
Somewhere in Baltimore
And stepped out of: —Days later: —
Delivering us closer to Glory: —
Between the trees: —Like a wild song: —He moved: —
Over the water: —He walked: —He flew: —
O Beloved Beloved Be
Loved Closer
To Glory: —O Glory: —
