The white folks were restless again last night.

All we could do was keep the faith, and wait.

My first parishioners started arriving at sunset,
having heard rumors, and reluctant to stay at
home.
Our shadows danced in the sanctuarys candleflames
as audible whiffs of pandemonium
drifted to us, like smoke from distant fires.
With most of the village in, I locked the doors.
I asked everyone to bow their heads and pray.
Pray for this nations struggle to be free
for ALL Americans. Equality
must be bitter, if youve always been on top,
and youre slapped awake out of a lifelong
sleep.
Pray well pull together toward a common hope.
Hundreds of voices raised.
Could that be drums?!
That was a firehouse bell
That was a scream!
Near dawn. The children and some mothers
sleep;
roosters crow morning, a couple of yard-dogs
yap,
the songbirds choir. The violence has stopped.
I step out into every day new light.
My little flock has weathered a wild night.
But someone somewhere is less fortunate.
Tim Seaman comes out, nods, and finds a tree.
Would every now held such tranquility.

There were many anti-abolition riots in New York

City in 183445. White mobs attacked targets
associated with abolitionists and African
Americans. People were beaten. More than
seven churches were damaged, many of them
belonging to African American congregations.