Poetry ~ Let the Poets Sing

oh, sing to us dear poets,
                            melody and verse
there is madness in the streets,
                            'tis humanity's curse
hold your notes on high,
                             let the music consume
so powerful your lyrics,
                             let order resume 
send your songs on the wind,
                             'tis humanity's score
may the choir sing your hymns 
                             pray harmony is restored 

Memoir: Chaney

In 1950, Chaney arrived at the
grand-old house on Hampton Street,
deep in the low-country of South Carolina,
to work for my great-grandmother.

In 1960, when my twin sister and I arrived,
our great-grandmother sent Chaney
next door to our grandparent's
home to care for us. 

And there Chaney remained,
year after year.  She cooked
and cleaned and fussed over us as
if we were her own.

She was family and we loved her.

Chaney hummed when she ironed
and starched the sheets.
She made a savory macaroni pie
and perfectly sweet iced tea.

She called me "Miss Suzy."
I simply knew her as "Chaney."
I never knew her last name.
No one did.
Mama said, "No one thought to ask."

And therein lies the pickle of my Southern roots. 
Chaney M. Gruber 1903 – 1975
Digital Art by Sue Viseth
In memory of Chaney, I found her last name by searching the cemetery directory of my hometown. She passed when I was a teenager, but I never knew her age. She will forever be timeless to me.