Sing, Unburied, Sing

by Jesmyn Ward

The dream of her was the glow of a spent fire on a cold night: warm and welcoming. It was the only way I could untether my spirit from myself, let it fly high as a kite in them fields.

They look at you and see difference, son. Don’t matter what you see. It’s about what they do,

“Home is about the earth. Whether the earth open up to you. Whether it pull you so close the space between you and it melt and y’all one and it beats like your heart. Same time. Where my family lived . . . it’s a wall. It’s a hard floor, wood. Then concrete. No opening. No heartbeat. No air.”

The place is the song and I’m going to be part of the song.”