I wrote this poem when I moved to Savannah, GA in the fall before releasing my first full-length album, Mantic. Just yesterday I was revisiting old photos from this time in Savannah, a time I cherish for the welcoming from the creative community there, the wonderful people I met, and the adventures I had as a young, traveling musician. I was shocked and saddened then yesterday after this reminiscing to hear of the sudden passing of one of Savannah’s most beloved residents, Niema Ross, a young woman whom I only knew virtually, though we had many friends and acquaintances in common from our Savannah ties. This poem is posted in memory of her, and her strength and wisdom. You can learn more about Niema here, listen to her podcast, or make a donation for funeral expenses and to help support her three children.
Savannah
Chartreuse, magic
muse,
fluttering, god-sent.
I take a vow of poverty
—“Are you homeless?”—
sitting on the church steps.
I recall: I am a traveler here,
wandering, god-swept.
Stirred up by Southern graces
the folk are too old to forget.
11.10.10
