“The curtains were not yet drawn and with the moonlight spreading across the room, I could see clearly. I undressed and slipped a soft cotton gown over my naked body. I pulled the blanket off the foot of my bed, covered my shoulders and wa...lked out on the balcony. The cool night air blowing through my hair served as a reminder that only a hint of summer remained in this year of 1860.”

“It was a beautiful Indian summer morning and perfect for savoring a few extra minutes in bed. There was a breeze blowing through my bedroom window; the air was as crisp as a bite of a fresh red apple.”

“As my body recalled my soul, I began to quiver with pain and gasp for air.”

“My darling, My day’s sweetest moments are at dawn, for I awake with dreams of you still in my head. As the light touches my lips, I can almost feel yours upon mine. I imagine your footsteps coming up the walk, but today is the same as the day before. It is only fanciful thinking. As the first beams of morning sunlight dance across my weary shoulders I cry out, “How can you be so cheery and bright with so much sorrow across our land?” I know I must be strong and face another day, but tears fill my eyes. Suddenly, a white dove lands upon my window sill. Surely this be the omen that peace is near at hand. Just like the breath of the coming Spring, this little dove now brings me new hope. God has heard our prayers and our Southland will flower again.”

“I turned to see a young woman with bed hair, wearing a only a thin nightdress.”

“Have you forgotten me?by Nancy B. BrewerThe bricks I laid or the stitches I sewed.I was the one that made the quilt; a drop of blood still shows from my needle prick.Your wedding day in lace and satin, in a dress once worn by me.I loaned your newborn baby my christening gown, a hint of lavender still preserved. Do you know our cause, the battles we won and the battles we lost?When our soldiers marched home did you shout hooray! Or shed a tear for the fallen sons. What of the fields we plowed, the cotton, the tobacco and the okra, too.There was always room at my table for one more, Fried chicken, apple pie, biscuits and sweet ice tea.A time or two you may have heard our stories politely told.Some of us are famous, recorded on the pages of history.Still, most of us left this world without glory or acknowledgment. We were the first to walk the streets you now call home,Perhaps you have visited my grave and flowers left,but did you hear me cry out to you? Listen, my child, to the voices of your ancestors. Take pride in our accomplishments; find your strength in our suffering. For WE are not just voices in the wind, WE are a living part of YOU!”

“My lonely eyes looked over the graves. I wept.”