Haint Blue Sunday

Beautiful old porch swing! | Porch swing, Country porch ...

If my Pappy had known, he’d have sat me down

out on the porch that haint blue Sunday

(not on the swing—in the slatback chair) and said,

“You are not a snail, young man.

You are a human being.

You won’t ever reach Bethlehem

by slouching sluggishly towards it—

you gotta run, son, till you’re good

and dead, and then Bethlehem will come to you.

The carpetbaggers will enter the kingdom

of God before the footdraggers”—

or a walk through the crooked churchyard

where the red cedars and the little ones sleep:

“Son, you are not a woman

or a child. You are a young man,

the heir of a granite yeomanry

which carved a nation out of wilderness

and ate blue fire. Be not afraid—

cowardice is the only eternal sin,

and the only way out is through”—

or kneeling at my bedside

and whispering through my doldrum dreams:

“You are a darling child of God

and you are a darling child of mine

and you are loved clean through”—

But I never did tell him.

2 thoughts on “Haint Blue Sunday

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