Our Descendants Will Walk on Water

By Dwight L. Wilson

I am the official historian for my maternal grandfather’s side of the family. Last week I was in Charleston, South Carolina where I was asked to give the major address to the Mack/ Kinney/ Rogers Family Reunion (Mom was born a Mack) This week, although not the official historian, I was asked to give the keynote to my maternal grandmother’s family at the Haynes Family Reunion (her mom was born a Haynes). It was held in Dayton, Ohio. Both gatherings trace their families from an enslaved couple who came to adulthood in Northeastern Georgia. I’ve counted those on the first tree. We number over 5000. There are more surnames on the second tree but I haven’t counted people. My guess is they number even more. Each time I read this psalm.

PSALM 40023
Through You we have known bright elation
where glorious victory lights the way.
Our smiles mirror Jesus on the Mount
smiling at those who dared to believe.
Lest we forget where we arrived
after the Middle Passage to a Hell
calling itself, “The land of the free”
remind us of ancestral pain.
Dear One, You delivered us into hope
that our descendants will walk on water
until they arrive at Your great mountain
and united, continue the climb.

Dwight L. Wilson is a Quaker who has held many jobs: educator, administrator, religious leader. In each role, he worked to advance equality, opportunity and understanding. He continues this work in his carefully researched historical fiction series Esi Was My Mother, which follows the lives of an enslaved black family from 18th century Africa to the American Civil War. He strives to portray triumphant examples of black stories that will make history come alive for readers. He is also author of two short story collections, The Kidnapped and The Resistors as well as a memoir centered on caring for children, Whispering to Babies and two psalms books: Modern Psalms In Search of Peace and Justice and Modern Psalms of Solace and Resistance.

Evergreens of Compassion

By Dwight Wilson

The origin of the root of this psalm is a riff off a quote by Turkish poet Ilhan Mimaroglu on Freddie Hubbard’s “Sing Me a Song of Songmai. That was 50 years ago and it has haunted me all these years. I immediately thought of couples I knew while growing up in Middletown, Ohio. Most hours of the day, mothers who were wiser and more responsible ruled the homes. However, should a man choose to come home, from being dogged by white supremacy in the outside world, most moms stepped aside to let him dominate. I knew men who left the house without saying where they were going and returned without saying where they had been. As well, I knew more than a few who had lovers and “outside children” elsewhere. IF I’M LYIN’ A FLYIN’.

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A Brief Consideration of Language

By Dwight L. Wilson, originally posted to Facebook on January 27, 2022

When my ancestors were kidnapped from Africa, the overlords employed white supremacy philosophy to both claim they themselves believed in freedom of religion and strip the victims of their ties to ancestral religion. In the enslavers’ minds, surely the Holy One was named Jehovah, not Nyame. Any black saying otherwise was dismissed as uncivilized if not inhuman. Refusing to stop inflicting trauma, we were forced to change African personal names, and forbidden African languages so that the powerful could feel more comfortable. In partial response, I gave my sons African names 1) Kai Ashante (thank you for the surprise), 2) Rai Imani (strong faith), 3) Tai Amri (an eagle is leading) and 4) Mai Hakili (a leader who is both spiritually and intellectually strong).

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The Spirits of the Lynched

By Dwight L. Wilson, originally posted to Facebook on October 3, 2021

I have been a social activist since my first marches before Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. In this week alone, I was involved in on-going projects in separate cities with police oversight, warrant resolution, and public health; in the county I worked on environmental protection; nationwide with responsible gun control.

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