The Heron and the Seagull

The boys got together the following Saturday at Justin's house. Justin's mother was taking Monteir's mother to a local arts and crafts festival and Justin's dad was working. The boys had the house to themselves. First Justin introduced Monteir to his dog. Next they explored the barn, and finally walked to the top of the mountain. The collie, Hickory, followed. At the top the boys laid down in the meadow and looked up at the cumulus clouds. The scene was panoramic with mountains all around. A dilapidated out-building was in the center of the meadow Monteir wanted to check it out. Justin said that he was not allowed in there as the building was in bad shape and copperheads could be anywhere. That convinced Monteir. So they remained horizontal on the grassy ground, studying the white puffy clouds. Justin thought one looked like a bird, a seagull. The seagull was right overhead and seemed to be dipping over the meadow. Justin said that he could imagine the bird darting into the ocean for fish. The cloud-gull rose and slowly flew across the sky. Monteir found another cloud to study. The boys decided it looked like a heron with a long neck and long legs. They watched as the cloud spread apart and slowly dissipated into the blue sky. Soon the heron was soft whiffs of white floating across the deep blue. "Have you thought anymore about that slave ship, The Henrietta Marie? asked Justin. Ive been thinking about all that slave stuff. My mother is trying to trace our heritage and found a website that traces the lives of slaves. My grandmother has always dreamed of going to Ghana. She saved her money and bought a flight ticket for last spring. Then my granddad had a heart attack and she had to stay home and take care of him. She still wants to go though." "Maybe you could go with her." "Hmm. That would be interesting." "I have a theory." "Tell me." "You know how she was named The Henrietta Marie?" "Yep." "Well I had to write a paper for school about a man who wrote stories about how bad slavery was. He wrote stories long ago. I think he was really a she. That she couldn't publish stories on her own as a woman. So she took on a man's name and her stories were published." "Hold on. You are confusing me here." "Well, the name on the bell of the ship and the name of the abolitionist are a lot alike. I think there was a Henrietta Marie and that the ship was named for her. Maybe she grew up and realized how awful slavery was, so she wrote down things to make people think about slavery. Since she was a woman, no one would listen or even publish her stuff. So she made up a man's name. What do ya' think?" "Cool story. Can you show me something she wrote?" "Sure. It's in my paper. I ended that paper with his words. Only I think he is a 'her'. I didn't tell my teacher this though. Mrs. Snodgrass wants just the facts and is crabby anyway." "Let's go back to the house and check it out."

The boys tumbled down the hill with Hickory at their heels. When they got to the house, the two moms had just pulled in and were getting out of the car, laughing. They were carrying something bigger than a breadbox. "What do you think that is?" asked Monteir. "Who knows, knowing them?" Once inside the two women put on the coffee pot and unveiled their purchase. Someone had carved four faces out of wood. Justin said that the wood was probably a hard maple. The carving was intricate and lovely. Four children. Two girls and two boys. One girl had Negroid features and thick curly hair that haloed her face. One shoulder was bare and a cloth with soft folds carved of wood was draped across the other shoulder. The second girl was Caucasian and had a thin face and straight hair that hung to her shoulders. A shawl that appeared crocheted was skillfully carved and covered both of her shoulders. The shawl formed a knot where her heart would be. Neither girl was smiling. On the other side of the carving were two boys. Both boys looked strong and wore big grins. One was clearly Caucasian; the other, Negroid. Even Justin and Monteir had to admit that the carving was beautiful. One wanted to look into the eyes of each child and understand their destiny. "Who bought that carving? What are you going to do with it?" asked Monteir. The ladies started talking together. They had pooled their money to buy the sculpture and had received a cost-cut from the artist. The ladies were determined to donate the carving to the traveling display of artifacts from the wreck of The Henrietta Marie. Both ladies expressed the belief that the carving evoked a feeling of hope for the future. Monteir and Justin looked at their mothers and laughed. You never know what a mom is up to! They went up to Justin's room and dug his research paper out from under the bed. "A-! Good work!" said Monteir. "From old Snodgrass, that is impressive. I probably should hang it up in my room or something. Here's the poem, I found by diggin' around on the Internet. It's supposed to be by Henry Marriett." You know, Justin, I think my grandmother would like this poem. Next weekend, do you want to come with me to my grandma's house? Besides, I think my Uncle Ronnie would like to hear your crazy theory?"

Abiding Grace

Wordless whispers of the wind And the voices of our ancestors Will waken our steadfast souls And cut through the hardened hurts of our hearts, Like a heron's point of stillness In the clear flowing waters of life Or the sanctity of the seagull As she soars oer the salty waves. Truth, freedom, and harmony will abide.