Statement: When the picture prompt came to my phone, I quickly dismissed it and deleted it. I had no interest in writing about little kids, they generally annoy me. However, some germ of appreciation for their youthful enthusiasm and innocence lodged in my imagination. Some days later, while driving, the cage door opened and set my vision free. I wrote this in my head and took some liberties with the details. But the theme remains—Black lives matter. I borrowed the title from a Kris Kristofferson song. I’m sure he won’t mind.
Sunday dresses, Sunday hats, new Mary Janes, and white socks with ruffles around their narrow ankles. Two young girls tripping lightly down the walk on their way to church. To go to Sunday school and know the smiling Jesus. Use broken crayons to color the pictures and stay within the lines. To pay attention to the lessons and learn what is right and what is wrong.
Two little girls, unsure what Heaven is. It’s so far away. Their young minds had trouble with that. But they would soon learn first-hand. The sudden blast and flash of light would be their teacher.
Two little black girls happily on their way to the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, September 15, 1963.
Sunday dresses, Sunday hats, new Mary Janes, and white socks with ruffles around their narrow ankles. Two young girls tripping lightly down the walk on their way to church. To go to Sunday school and know the smiling Jesus. Use broken crayons to color the pictures and stay within the lines. To pay attention to the lessons and learn what is right and what is wrong.
Two little girls, unsure what Heaven is. It’s so far away. Their young minds had trouble with that. But they would soon learn first-hand. The sudden blast and flash of light would be their teacher.
Two little black girls happily on their way to the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama, September 15, 1963.
