When you hear the voice of an elder, you know when you have been blessed by the Divine. To come across an elder means there is a wealth of knowledge and mystique-the ability to hear the Creator’s voice, and space of wisdom. You know that you have stumbled upon, a blessed thing. In the Spirit of Black America, and her authentic culture, we come to witness the prayers and teachings of our grandmothers. They were those Nanas, the Big Momma’s, and others, who kept home in their prayers. They were the ones, who were the moral support for The Black Church, and Black America’s gardens, as a whole. It was their love and wisdom, which moved mountains, and elevated us to the highest of heights. That was love.
Precious Lord, Take My Hand Lead Me on, let me stand I am tired. I am weak. I am worn.
Sitting within my existence as a Black American maiden, you often question why you had made it through these difficult times. What was it about your womenfolk, who were masters in transforming the foreign into the familiar? What was it about those elder, Black American mothers, who were tact enough to ensure that we did not break, when we stumbled or fell? What did they know, that we did not?
During those times when I feel weary, and on the verge of wanting to give up, I make sure to always look to their struggles, and what they went through-even more importantly, what they overcame. I make sure to move through the wellness of their wisdom-that wisdom wellness. Keepin’ on, keepin’ on! For, it is their shoulders that I stand on. I remember not to allow my weariness to get the best of me, or to stumble. For the baton has been passed, and other Black American maidens (as myself) must continue to pass on the torch. So, I move to work. . .to pursue the impossible. Pushing through those limits and boundaries, in order that I become stronger, and affirm the names, of those women of our foundation. Those women, who played that Gospelic Blues because they had truly lived it!
I speak the names of those foremothers, who came before. For the flames of freedom were, passed, and we must carry on. Walking through, marching through, those Gospelic tunes. Re-discovering that downright, honest Blues! It is through their words, where love and Heaven’s mystery continues to rise! I feel it in my bones, my Spirit, and in the breathe of my words. So, during those times when I want to give up, and retire, I look to my cultural, musical Mothers, as examples of, the Creator’s. . . 🔥FIRE!