A month of poets: today, Randall Horton

In celebration of National Poetry Month, I’ll feature a poem here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday in April. Any reflections on today’s selection?

“Working Overtime at Bryant Chapel AME”
from The Definition of Place by Randall Horton
 
At 1:00 PM before church lets out
Reverend Jamar bellows a deep groan,
folds over, raises his large frame
with baritone belts of Amazing Grace.

There is a certain verbosity
in how a blind man suspends us;
it is like he can peep through mud,
and visualize dry land.

In the second pew, my sister and I
watch him sway a stoic congregation
of old fruit hats holding brown hymnals,
their arms stretched to a plastic Jesus.

Elderly men in the steward’s corner
provide yes suh! and preach it Rev!
Guiding a sea of believers to that
crescendo where they are sanctified.

Sunlight from stained windows
blinds our eyes with flashes of revelation
until Sister Ola body jerks down the aisle
like a macrame doll on an elastic tether.

Tears rain from mascara-smeared eyes;
she grits, pulls God’s breath,
knocks over the attendance banner–
Ms. Julia commences to hum miry clay.

Smith & Gaston fans windmill nonstop,
sweat trickles down faces full of brimstone;
somebody faints, scripture grows longer
against a chorus of low tenor nightingales.

In-between moans, collection plates circulate
in Usher Board #3 third Sunday’s name.
Everybody digs deep for the new building fund
and soon-to-be Headstart program.

At precisely 1:45 PM, my sister and I
surrender any chance of an early release
as pastor discovers the hedge of his pulpit,
reaches out and extends an invitation to Christ.

24. April 2009 by Mindy
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