What I know about greener grass

I come from a people whose skin is dark and enriched like the soil that raised them Whose souls are anchored in a history and drawn by the heavens that bestowed them with the gift of gravity to abide in their humanity. Their fierce power to hope in overwhelming oceans of tumult They searched for good, fought for life, and struggled for change They birthed freedom I carry them with me.

From the soil of the western shore of Africa whence we came Our diasporic homes vary from Atlanta, Boston, Chicago, Tuscaloosa, And from the lands of the Timucua, Cherokee, and Puyallup peoples. I come from a people who sowed seeds that became our family tree— photosynthesizing to produce oxygen that would allow us and our future offspring to breathe with more ease We flourish.

This is the greenest plot of grass I know Our roots run deep and wide peeking above and stretching out below– dulling the blades that seek to mow down the spaces where we were planted long ago It is the greenest plot of grass I know.

The ancestors carried our genetic code Like buried treasure in their bones Being passed through generations Awaiting the days when it would be uncaged to live into its fullness. Native tongues trained to lash the backsides of teeth who were forced to gather a smile as a united front Scarred hands that picked cotton, pulled tobacco, and de-feathered chickens to survive Minds and bodies worked overtime to do their daily roles while wondering– How can they make sure their brilliance didn’t offend their oppressors?

We are seers, dreamers, teachers, preachers, caregivers We work hard, make art, and do black magic We turn raw material into bountiful goodness We turn card tables into holy communion We turn outdoor greenspace into comedy clubs Backyards into Black churches Jokin’ and belly laughin’ Testifyin’ and shoutin’ Putting salve on wounds this world has made It’s healing for and healing from the roots It’s for the ones that never knew what it meant “to go out with joy and be led forth with peace,”* So, we celebrate for them and us “And all the trees of the field clap their hands.”*

Amongst branches and leaves There’s bickering and disagreeing Within the rustling there’s an unmatched sweetness And when strong winds blow I remain rooted and entangled with a people, this sweet I know.

This is the greenest plot of grass I know Our roots run deep and wide peeking above and stretching out below– dulling the blades that seek to mow down the spaces where we were planted long ago It is the greenest plot of grass I know.

There may be greener grass beyond the plot I know With loving people, delicious soul food, and goodness that overflows Yet, if it’s not the plot grounded by the tree– Of those who prayed, carried, and nurtured me. Never to me will greener be.

*These verses come from Isaiah 55:12 that is found in the King James Version within the chapter with a superscription, “An Invitation to Abundant Life.”