The next time we sing and call in Ancestors-
The next time we pour libations, we will call her name.
And she will come. Wearing new robes, held together with words written by Audre, June, Lucille, Maya, and Ntozake to welcome her into the next world

And she will say something like —the best way to fight their lies is to write and give voice to our stories.
And she will stand at the edge of our circle and call us into the center one by one. She will listen deeply as we excavate our stories from our souls. There will be wailing and laughter. There will be cussing and prayers. There will be slurs and exquisite enunciation. There will be silence and shouting in our testimonies and telling.

She will gather all of it at the helm of her majestic robe and spread them across the sky when she flies back.

She is free-er now. We’ve inherited her relentlessness, love, and devotion to the humanity of Blackness. I’ve inherited a deeper sense of responsibility to tell my story.

She went to rest, yes. And in a little while, she will come when we call.

In our memory, in our hearts, our words yet to be written, Great Mother, Writer, Warrior, Truth Teller Toni Morrison lives.