Chapter 60 - Sestina 3 (1/2)

Ethel Freeman's body sat for days in her

wheelchair outside the New Orleans Convention

Center.

Her son Herbert, who had assured his mother that

help was on the way, was forced to leave her

there once she died.

Gon' be obedient in this here chair,

gon' bide my time, fanning against this sun.

I ask my boy, and all he says is Wait.

He wipes my brow with steam, says I should sleep.

I trust his every word. Herbert my son.

I believe him when he says help gon' come.

Been so long since all these suffrin' folks come

to this place. Now on the ground 'round my chair,

they sweat in my shade, keep asking my son

could that be a bus they see. It's the sun

foolin' them, shining much too loud for sleep,

making us hear engines, wheels. Not yet. Wait.

Lawd, some folks praying' for rain while they wait,

forgetting what rain can do. When it come,

it smashes living flat, wakes you from sleep,

eats streets, washes you clean out of the chair

you be sittin' in. Best to praise this sun,

shinin' its dry shine. Lawd have mercy, son,

is it coming? Such a strong man, my son.

Can't help but believe when he tells us, Wait.