[Music]
recently I’ve reflected on a trip that I
took down south while I traveled to my
roots I thought of my future in the
country I was born in how times were
changing seemed every day there was
another shooting or presidential blunder
caught on the news but I was on holy
ground in the south I found myself in
church rarely do I ever attend I have
nothing against it but in my experience
the only times that I’ve ever been in
one were for weddings and funerals in my
story the latter is what brought me not
ladders like Jacob to find a way to
heaven no repentance in my makeup for
the absences and be spaces in my Pew I
was there for my grandmother’s funeral
and unlike and unfaithful I felt not
uncomfortable there was space for a
sinner in my seat after all this was my
great-grandfather’s building the Church
of OBP the search for dry eyes was easy
as pecan pie the sweetest funeral I’ve
ever been to I was astounded there was
no sorrow here and in our procession in
black clothes and black cars and black
bodies a perfect protection there was no
sorrow just Church songs that rain
refrains like raindrops paying off a tin
roof and I thought of more roofs roofs
like Dylan the man who murdered nine
black bodies in a church like this one a
place with no sorrow simultaneously the
minister rose to his feet as if to
remind me there would be none of that in
the Church of OBP here no sullen faces
sunken in the shoulders telling stories
that seemed made up to pass the time and
take our minds off this but reminded of
this voices rang high made music to
dance with the dead oblivious to them
and outside steps were dangers that I
had heard of most of them they had lived
through everybody in this building my
building seemed so easy to persecute an
insurmountable force to beat like the
black body bags sized perfectly for
black bodies shot dead in the street
somehow not an issue in the Church of
OBP my train of thought was derailed by
yet another song this time for my
great-aunt solo she’s saying not so much
beautifully but
tolerable her black lungs in her black
body slip black suit between your vocal
cords that hinted at what used to be a
fire she’s saying while she sobbed and
for the first time in this invincible
building
I felt something familiar her eyes were
closed and her voice did not stutter as
she pictured God and her sister meeting
I don’t remember the words
I don’t have to hear I realize the
dangers of the outside world wane in our
doorframe in the face of a family
stitched together through circumstance a
patchwork hammock I could lay my head in
eyes to the sky I looked for heaven here
I felt my holiest perhaps a pulpit says
she could pull me and divulged in minor
keys God whispered unto me your worry is
unwarranted he said take a look around
and wait watch if you wish but don’t
look for me look for someone with
answers that you could meet look for
ever look in vain find OBP [Music]
recently I’ve reflected on a trip that I
took down south while I traveled to my
roots I thought of my future in the
country I was born in how times were
changing seemed every day there was
another shooting or presidential blunder
caught on the news but I was on holy
ground in the south I found myself in
church rarely do I ever attend I have
nothing against it but in my experience
the only times that I’ve ever been in
one were for weddings and funerals in my
story the latter is what brought me not
ladders like Jacob to find a way to
heaven no repentance in my makeup for
the absences and be spaces in my Pew I
was there for my grandmother’s funeral
and unlike and unfaithful I felt not
uncomfortable there was space for a
sinner in my seat after all this was my
great-grandfather’s building the Church
of OBP the search for dry eyes was easy
as pecan pie the sweetest funeral I’ve
ever been to I was astounded there was
no sorrow here and in our procession in
black clothes and black cars and black
bodies a perfect protection there was no
sorrow just Church songs that rain
refrains like raindrops paying off a tin
roof and I thought of more roofs roofs
like Dylan the man who murdered nine
black bodies in a church like this one a
place with no sorrow simultaneously the
minister rose to his feet as if to
remind me there would be none of that in
the Church of OBP here no sullen faces
sunken in the shoulders telling stories
that seemed made up to pass the time and
take our minds off this but reminded of
this voices rang high made music to
dance with the dead oblivious to them
and outside steps were dangers that I
had heard of most of them they had lived
through everybody in this building my
building seemed so easy to persecute an
insurmountable force to beat like the
black body bags sized perfectly for
black bodies shot dead in the street
somehow not an issue in the Church of
OBP my train of thought was derailed by
yet another song this time for my
great-aunt solo she’s saying not so much
beautifully but
tolerable her black lungs in her black
body slip black suit between your vocal
cords that hinted at what used to be a
fire she’s saying while she sobbed and
for the first time in this invincible
building
I felt something familiar her eyes were
closed and her voice did not stutter as
she pictured God and her sister meeting
I don’t remember the words
I don’t have to hear I realize the
dangers of the outside world wane in our
doorframe in the face of a family
stitched together through circumstance a
patchwork hammock I could lay my head in
eyes to the sky I looked for heaven here
I felt my holiest perhaps a pulpit says
she could pull me and divulged in minor
keys God whispered unto me your worry is
unwarranted he said take a look around
and wait watch if you wish but don’t
look for me look for someone with
answers that you could meet look for
ever look in vain find OBP [Music]
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