Prophets

There ain't no prophets in my home community; except unless you count Gay and Eddie. I always knew them as dirt-scratch farmers and hard working men. They were old when I was young and so it seemed to me that they was just men, like the older men in my family. But they had a wisdom and a way of sharing that wisdom that made a young boy like me listen. Their intonation and vocabulary wasn't anything like what I heard on Sunday mornings. They spoke of a Lord that was "gracious" and "almighty." Scarred and calloused hands waved in the air as the lessons of Job and Elijah hung in the air above our porch.

They are all gone now and days pass without me thinking of those gentle but worn men and their words. I miss them when I do think of them and those days.

Rest in peace my friends,
In the hands of the "almighty and gracious Lawd."