The 2022 volume of the inSpirit Series, Incantations for Rest is an invitation to slow down and rest for those exhausted by the demands of a racist, ableist society.
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Preface
Acknowledgments
Storyteller’s Invocation
Decatur, Georgia Creeks
Mending
Prayer for Artists and Creatives
Ancestors of the Page and the Call
Conspiracy
Sharing
Of the Altar
Singing Prayer
Evolution of Worship
Lineage of Magic
Facebook Vespers
Simple Parts of Faith
Sharing Losses
Swimming Alone
The Divine Audacity of Bree Newsome
Reckon: Reclaim
Changeling Generation
Teacher to Teacher to Teacher
Divine Right to Rest
Litany for the Exhausted
Litany of Oops and Ouch
Litanies of Worthiness
Labyrinth Chant
Benediction to Build a World
Psalm of Talents
A Spell for Warriors and Heroes
Thinking of Mathew
Reciprocity
Spirit Does
Election Night 2020
Every Storm Runs Out of Rain
Blessing of the Instigators
Giving Each Other Our Flowers
Humble yourself before the brutal lessons of the free Black child!
Combing Liturgy
A Normal Conversation About Attending UU Churches
Unconditional Earth
In Darkness, All Things Are Possible
MYOB
A Black Daughter Speaks of Rivers
Generational Wealth
Praise Song for a Desert Rock
Spitting Out Rocks
Instincts
Attention Deficit Invocations
Dear Fear,
Earthen Vessel
Revenge Bedtime Contemplation
Stories and Stars
Kuumba and the Fourth Principle
Ancestors of the Page and the Call
Elders of the Message—
not quiet, not easy, not waiting another moment
Ntozake, Toni, Octavia, Pauli,
Zora, June, Gwendolyn, my mother (not an ancestor,
but a lit fuse . . .)
To my Ancestors and Elders: I honor you all!
My mother spoke to me in your language, so I would
be ready for this religion.
I take up the mantle
and bear the reverberations—the power! It shakes me!
I plant my feet . . .
Ntozake did not come for your comfort: none of y’all.
Mother Morrison did not come to suffer fools.
Octavia E. has an omen for you
Did you think Reverend Dr. Murray would let you off
the hook?
Zora gave less of what the world wanted
and more of what we needed: what needed to be said.
June said it plain and simply undeniable.
Gwendolyn’s quiet pace dogs your steps and keeps
coming and coming and coming . . .
The moment I touch the page, I’m howling the throughline,
tasting
the blood and joy.
Preface
Acknowledgments
Storyteller’s Invocation
Decatur, Georgia Creeks
Mending
Prayer for Artists and Creatives
Ancestors of the Page and the Call
Conspiracy
Sharing
Of the Altar
Singing Prayer
Evolution of Worship
Lineage of Magic
Facebook Vespers
Simple Parts of Faith
Sharing Losses
Swimming Alone
The Divine Audacity of Bree Newsome
Reckon: Reclaim
Changeling Generation
Teacher to Teacher to Teacher
Divine Right to Rest
Litany for the Exhausted
Litany of Oops and Ouch
Litanies of Worthiness
Labyrinth Chant
Benediction to Build a World
Psalm of Talents
A Spell for Warriors and Heroes
Thinking of Mathew
Reciprocity
Spirit Does
Election Night 2020
Every Storm Runs Out of Rain
Blessing of the Instigators
Giving Each Other Our Flowers
Humble yourself before the brutal lessons of the free Black child!
Combing Liturgy
A Normal Conversation About Attending UU Churches
Unconditional Earth
In Darkness, All Things Are Possible
MYOB
A Black Daughter Speaks of Rivers
Generational Wealth
Praise Song for a Desert Rock
Spitting Out Rocks
Instincts
Attention Deficit Invocations
Dear Fear,
Earthen Vessel
Revenge Bedtime Contemplation
Stories and Stars
Kuumba and the Fourth Principle
Ancestors of the Page and the Call
Elders of the Message—
not quiet, not easy, not waiting another moment
Ntozake, Toni, Octavia, Pauli,
Zora, June, Gwendolyn, my mother (not an ancestor,
but a lit fuse . . .)
To my Ancestors and Elders: I honor you all!
My mother spoke to me in your language, so I would
be ready for this religion.
I take up the mantle
and bear the reverberations—the power! It shakes me!
I plant my feet . . .
Ntozake did not come for your comfort: none of y’all.
Mother Morrison did not come to suffer fools.
Octavia E. has an omen for you
Did you think Reverend Dr. Murray would let you off
the hook?
Zora gave less of what the world wanted
and more of what we needed: what needed to be said.
June said it plain and simply undeniable.
Gwendolyn’s quiet pace dogs your steps and keeps
coming and coming and coming . . .
The moment I touch the page, I’m howling the throughline,
tasting
the blood and joy.
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