‘I have to wipe the crying from my eyes’

The above is the title of an epic poem – a lament – penned by our African-American neighbor, Sheila Lamonzs, which I’d cribbed from the Front Royal Women’s Resource Center (FRWRC) newsletter, requesting permission to publish as a contributing writer for Royal Examiner.

It initially was composed in the wake of the death of George Floyd but we held it to coincide with “Juneteenth”, today, the day that Virginia Governor Ralph Northam gave state employees off to mark the end of slavery in the United States. “Juneteenth”, also called Emancipation Day and Freedom Day, is celebrated annually on June 19.

Front Royal Unites prepares to launch its huge and peaceful ‘Anti-racism’ march of June 5th, exactly two week before the ‘Juneteenth’ anniversary of word of the end of the Civil War marking the freeing of all slaves in America reaching Galveston, Texas in 1865. A second FR Unites event, a ‘March for Justice’, is planned for tomorrow, Saturday, June 20th. Royal Examiner File Photo/Roger Bianchini

Lamonzs and her late husband, Harry, retired to Front Royal from New York state just 20 years ago building their new home in the Rockland community. As a former educator and a writer, she has become known locally through our media, penning articles, including book reviews, over the years. She spent 40 years in the New York state public schools system and since landing in Warren County has been active in the local Women’s Resource Center, Samuels Public Library and the Rockland Community Church.

Here is the original three-part poem, “I have to wipe the crying from my eyes,” by Sheila Lamonzs:

…1619, Jamestown

It was a crisp morning, brightly emboldened by cypress and oak.
Her feet touched this soil for the first time, this land of freedom.
But, for Angela, it was the antithesis,
Captured, bruised, driven from solace,
The taste of sweetness lingering on her lips no more.
A reality of enslavement ripping through her chest,
Encapsulating fear, despair, an uncompromising death.

The cadence of life surged forth, while gaining strength of body, heart, spirit.
Never yielding to the crack of the whip or the wailing of forced entry.
This Angolan treasure persevered and rose from the depths,
The pride and dignity embodied at youth embellishing her stance.
Then, on a crisp morning, draped by cypress and oak,
She surrendered to the land, now free
Never to wipe the crying from her eyes again.

… 1955, Mississippi; Buffalo, NY

He was a mere child of fourteen,
A northern boy of color, cocky, carefree.
Thrust into the murky waters where Crow was supreme,
Voices of hatred, ignorance
Gathered him up
Eviscerating the body, desecrating the soul.
Hence, a mother who literally exposed this outrage to the world,
Would be forever strained with the crying from her eyes.

Young, away from home for the first time…naive, dark-hued,
A freshman in college living a dream as the second in line,
Sent off with pride and an innate sense of integrity.
Luncheon with friends at a Woolworth counter
All served but one.
She did not understand but they did, her white cohorts,
They took her by the arm, lifted her up,
With a spirit of humanity she would never forget.
En masse, they shed that place,
Harnessed with a hope that would reign forever,
And a comfort to the tears in her eye.

…1999 to the present

Bronx, NY: Forty-one shots rang through the air,
Nineteen met their mark.
Dark uniforms surrounded the stilled target,
Diallo,Guinean, one more lost.

DONTRE JOHN EZELL ERIC MICHAEL TANISHA AKAI TAMIR JERAME ALMAUD
and, now, GEORGE

A few among scores.
Some, perhaps, not having lived stellar lives, whatever that is,
But gone before they had the chance to change; and, more importantly, to live.
Vanished by vicissitudes that emerged from the darkness,
A handful of garbed impersonators who should have been shields.

When do we say ENOUGH?

The miracle of life commences in a purity that evokes overwhelming joy,
Ripening the senses as never before.
Somehow, this stunning episode turns upside down,
Revealing an ignorance, fear,
Eradicating the innocence of creation.
Sadly, probity is fleeting,
Becoming tainted, perhaps irretrievable.
Yet, even with hesitant aspiration,
Goodness can be birthed again.
Perceptions discarded, allowing us to walk in the light, once more,
Hand in hand; heart to soul.
Seeking kindness, like flowing water on a lazy summer day.
Comforting, mesmerizing, effortless, soothing, clear, colorless,
Satisfying subtleties that are enveloped by all who partake.
Bringing forth a smile,
Internalizing its strength through gentleness,
Thus becoming healing waters,
As only kindness can do.
Some will not want to inhale the vapors; many will…many have!
Yet, we must steady the course…a greater journey hath no man.

Salvation will only come through hope, love,
Given the power to feel the warmth of goodness,
To stride in the sunshine while embracing each other.
To diminish grief, allowing anguish to become stagnant,
Striving to hold each other up as we traverse this land.
That is hope! That is love!
We can do it…collectively, we MUST do it.
For then, and only then, shall we wipe the crying from our eyes!

— Sheila Lamonzs, June 19^th, 2020

Together, can we ever ‘wipe the crying from our eyes’?