Poem September 11, 1989 Issue

Beautiful names

Katherine Blackson

In the New Orleans twilight
she called her boys at play
beyond the wrought-iron fences—
"Strawberry, Pleiades, come to supper."
Their names like music
upon the gathering sweetness of night,
she called and called.
Until dusty and hungry
and worn they came home
to her love and her supper table.

And so do we hear our
names called with musical
notes so harmonious we
are stirred, thrilled.
Why did we tarry so long?

Our Father-Mother God
has more beautiful names for us
than we have now.

Katherine Blackson

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