The gathering was in Atlanta, so before heading home I visited the King Center. I'd been there before, as a part of my "Civil Rights Family Vacation" (see the sidebar), but when I was last there Ebeneser Baptist Church, Martin Luther King Jr's church, was under renovation. So this was the first chance I had to go inside and visit the church.
It was Sunday so I had the place pretty much to myself. The picture here is one I took. Sermons of Dr. King were being played over the loudspeaker. So you could sit in the pews, close your eyes and just listen.
I imagined the congregation swaying under the rhythmic, prophetic preaching of Dr. King.
I found the experience to be quite moving. So I pulled out a pen and wrote a poem.
Sitting in the Pews of Ebeneser Baptist Church
Is this my church?
Or shall I ever be
a perpetual visitor here?
Light, White
my complexion
and the complicit history
that I carry
and the privilege
unearned and transparent.
I linger here
in this house of God--
of prayer and worship and pain--
wanting the brotherhood
found in that praying One
colored in stained glass
high above
the pulpit where you stood.
Am I here to repent,
to stand--
representative of my race--
to say I am--
that we are--
sorry?
Or am I here to gain the strength
to carry the guilt
a little farther in,
farther on,
down the road?
Do not lay that precious burden
down
too quickly.
Such things are not so easily mended.
Sorrow,
but no final absolution.
Not yet.
Too many tears.
Not yet.
I sit
as the aged wooden pew
creaks beneath me.
I sit here
alone
quiet
listening to your voice.
I am listening to you.
Though you are long dead.
