Harriet Tennessee Alexander
Did not suffer an overripe deacon
To go unremarked from where she stood.
My great grandmother, duly churched herself,
Would slyly christen the immoderate soul
A constipated Baptist. Landing hard
On self-righteous in her considered view
Could overplay the sanctimony card.
The railroad bisecting her Texas town
Isolated white from black and brown.
On their respective sides of the divide
Solid citizens in Sunday best
Professed monochromatic piety.
It would not do for Hattie Tennessee.
The dame kicked up her version of a fuss:
A blood-red South was not her cup of tea.
Her scruple went down like a blunderbuss.
She prayed the more, regretted it the less.
That rebel died unsung, but not by me.
(c) 2026 JMN — EthicalDative. All rights reserved
Harriet Tennessee Alexander sounds like a brave and wonderful woman – a model for us all. Well sung, Jim.
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Thank you, Sue. She’s one of those persons remembered mostly from childhood and whom one wished he’d known better. Her “constipated Baptist” phrase was passed down to me by my mother.
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The sketch is very interesting – the contrast between the shaded statue and the lined shadow (?) Abstract and not abstract.
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Well sized up by your quick eye, OA. You add value and dimension to my sketch, greatly appreciated!
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Submission and then tied up and dropped to the floor? Ambiguities and soft signals lead to interesting places.
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