James McBride: The Good Lord Bird

But it was a funny thing. I don’t think they’d have to wait that long. For we rode past a colored church as we moved out of Charles Town, and inside the church you could hear the Negroes singing, singing ’bout Gabriel’s trumpet. That was the Old Man’s favorite song. “Blow Ye Trumpet.” Them Negroes was far away from the doings on the plaza where the Old Man was to hang, way out from it. But they sang it loud and clear... .

You could hear their voices for a long way, seemed like they lifted up and carried all the way into the sky, lingering in the air long afterward. And up above the church, high above it, a strange black-and-white bird circled ’round, looking for a tree to roost on, a bad tree, I expect, so he could alight upon it and get busy, so that it would someday fall and feed the others.

Deeply grateful to all those who, over the years, have kept the memory of John Brown alive.

James McBride

Solebury Township, Pa.

The Color of Water

Miracle at St. Anna

Song Yet Sung