Friday, April 3, 2009


Griot (storyteller) mesmerizing children at Stagville

Footprints Quilt at lecture I was giving at Stagville Plantation 06


Drumming Circle at Stagville Plantation Horton Slave Row,NC JHM©03


I hear the beat of a different drummer…

Whose hands are callused from a continual call that too often falls on deaf ears?
It entreats you to listen, pay attention, and heed the call.

Yet the drummer continues to send out the message.

And sometimes, so faintly caught in the wind are snatches of the word heard.

And reverberates, piercing the marrow of the one whose heart’s ears hear.

And the rhythms’ sounds begin to pound.

Like rain shining down on the river’s water.

And the aching heart responds to the call of the drummer’s relentless pounding.

In the interior of the walls of their heart something long ago stirs up.

And impels them to move, despite the resistance of a world who’s prized jewel…

Is the ability to diminish, to tear down and deny the freeness of the ones to shine beyond all light?

I hear the beat of a different drummer whose hands are callused from a continual call.
But my ears are unstopped and despite it all.

I get up and move toward the sound

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