Some glad morning when this life is o’er,
I’ll fly away;
To a home on God’s celestial shore,
I’ll fly away;
When the shadows of this life have grown,
I’ll fly away;
Like a bird from prison bars has flown,
I’ll fly away;
Just a few more weary days and then,
I’ll fly away;
To a land where joys shall never end,
I’ll fly away.

Well prepared—sturdy boots; a bundle with bonnet, stew pot, shirt & tie,
Leather britches that will last longer than the trail, longer than timber felling and barn raising.
A Quilt cover to pad ‘fore the winter sets in—to hang on the railing next spring
Its center yellow patch—a homing beacon to those that follow.
We leave just before supper—shadows are long, it will be dark soon.
We won’t be missed until morning—by morning, we will be beyond the boundaries of this prison.
Our son will NOT be sold at auction—that life is over.
To the joys of freedom we flee.

Cleaning up the mess

In the home

In the neighborhood

In the nation

In the world

The truth of woman’s work

Nikki
—prepares for meditation
—prepares for prayer

Nikki
—believes in a Divine Law
—respects man’s law

Nikki
—gives of herself to all in need
—gives herself to no one in
particular

Nikki
—embraces the spirit of all
great women
—has yet to experience the
fullness of womanhood.

A place of privacy and/or safety: All people, especially women who often give primary attention to caring for others, need time to be alone with their own thoughts. Sometimes it is found by retreating into oneself.

The people of South Africa celebrated a great political achievement when President Nelson Mandela. All in the Diaspora found inspiration in their struggles, comfort, and joy in their successes. Imbokodo is a stone used to grind corn, from the Khosian language. It symbolizes strength, resilience, and purity (the stone is always covered when not being used). Imbokodo is my tribute to them.

Coy
Innocent
Cautiously investigating
The truth of youth

Stepping from her bath of warm water and fragrant oils—soothed, smooth skin braces with the breeze enveloping her as the towel is wrapped around her body.

Her skin—dark, supple, fine textured, as though her Creator found the smooth, dark clay of Oaxaca on the banks of the Nile.
Her skin—polished by the invigorating fluff of the towel.

The Nubian stands, not before a mirror reflection—non-the-less aware of her body—head to toe—a lithe body with curves declaring her budding womanhood.

She still feels the pull on her hair as the hairdresser weaves beads into her naturally thick springy hair and sculpts it into intricate repetitive shapes.

The towel drops and caresses her legs and she steps forward from my dream.

“Children of the heavenly Father safely in his bosom gathered.
Nestling bird nor star in heaven such a refuge e’er was given.”

Caroline V. Sandell-Berg, 1855