Uncle Joe’s Spirit House

Originally posted 10/27/2010.

— dedicated to the music of William Parker and Cooper-Moore

The organ makes a face —
broken smile
above upraised chin,
closed eyes, movement
under the lids. Then saxophone,
poking finger
demanding entrance to the reverie,
insisting it’s time
to break one stride, find a new one. 

Everyone sprinting together down a road
in North Carolina late at night
toward a dilapidated church that hides
a still.  There’s a party in the sacred space;
sidekicks, strong and soft-spoken,
drum in telegrams from beyond the fire.
Drift over: there,
just beyond the light of the circle ,
a familiar face.

Eyes open, calm intelligence, comfortable
with a darkness that resists
the incursion of obvious message.

Step back from there,
sit down by the flames 
and listen.

Don’t speak
unless it speaks to you.
Then, shout.