Rosa Parks and the Omen Poem by Frances Shani Parker

      

A former Detroit Public Schools administrator at Rosa Parks Middle School in Michigan, I was fortunate to have spent time with Rosa Parks when she visited our school.

Rosa Parks and the Omen
By Frances Shani Parker

Greatness arrived when Rosa Parks
visited her namesake school.
I hung up her coat, knelt to remove
snow-covered boots from feet
that had walked, marched, scattered
footprints over racial injustice.
We laughed at our similar names
when she mistakenly signed her photo
“To Frances Parks,” not Frances Parker.
I felt an omen of kinship between us.

Her arrest for remaining in a bus seat
designated by law for white people
gave rise to the civil rights movement.
Years later, my own Detroit arrest
forced the opening of district centers
for students left after school hours.
When colleagues called me Rosa Parks,
my heart warmed with cherished
memories of a historic woman’s photo
with an omen of kinship that came true.

Passage of time brings slow endings.
I still encounter white privilege practices,
judgment through negative stereotypes,
ongoing news of systemic racial bias
in this divided country many call great.
But I remember proudly a warrior woman
who defended our human dignity
on a Montgomery, Alabama bus.
I honor her commitment, her courage,
her kinship with America’s oppressed.

Rosa Louise McCauley Parks (1913–2005) became an American pioneer of the civil rights movement when she was arrested for refusing to give up her bus seat to a white man on December 1, 1955 in Montgomery, Alabama. After decades of mass protests, bus segregation and related injustices were ruled unconstitutional. Rosa Parks received the U.S. Congressional Gold Medal in 1999.

Frances Shani Parker, Author
Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban Nursing Homes is available in paperback and e-book editions in America and other countries at online and offline booksellers.
Hospice and Nursing Homes Blog

Hospice Poem: Michigan Volunteer Honors Alzheimer’s Patient and African American Ancestors (Ruby Bridges)

Guarded from angry mobs by federal marshals in 1960, first-grader Ruby Bridges integrated William Frantz Public School in New Orleans, Louisiana, my hometown. In protest during the first year, most parents withdrew their children from the school.

Because my hospice volunteering is primarily in Detroit, Michigan, many people assume that all of my patients are African American. Actually, I have had several Caucasian patients who were in my care for years. Dying is universal. My patients and I come together as strangers and often discover that we share similarities that bond us to higher levels of understanding of one another and ourselves. Shared similarities can include race, language, talents, occupations, travel, values, joys, and pains.

I was inspired to write this poem while watching my hospice patient sleep. I thought about our shared African American heritage that bridged our communication beyond her Alzheimer's disease. This poem is dedicated to her and our ancestors, especially those strong and inspirational like Ruby Bridges.

Deeper Than Words

The outside world arrives

wearing my willing face.

Toothless, your smile widens

like a baby’s hungry for attention.

Almost ninety-eight years old,

your inner candle still glows.

A hospice volunteer, I lean closer,

talk into your listening left ear,

“Today is Sunday, Miss Loretta.”

My news drifts away like smoke.

You stare at me through dying coals.

Whatever I ask, you whisper, “Yes.”

I stroke your age-softened arms

while your hazed mind masters sleep.

Watching you, I dream generations

of women black and strong, each one

a book of sustaining stories

about joy, pain, courage, survival.

Within your warm brown frame,

spirits from our common history linger.

Aides say you have dementia,

that you don’t know a word I say.

Our language goes deeper than words.

We speak to each other’s souls.

© Frances Shani Parker

Excerpt from Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban Nursing Homes

Honoring a Nun Who Has Alzheimer's Dementia

You can also read my tribute to a nun who positively impacted my life as a child and later developed and died from Alzheimer’s disease here:

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/honoring-nun-who-has-alzheimers-frances-shani-parker?trk=mp-reader-card

Frances Shani Parker, Author

Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban Nursing Homes is available in paperback at many booksellers in America and other countries and also in e-book editions at Amazon and Barnes and Noble booksellers.

Hospice and Nursing Homes Blog

Hospice Volunteer and Dementia Patient Share Common History: Poem “Deeper Than Words”

Guarded from angry mobs by federal marshals in 1960, first-grader Ruby Bridges integrated William Frantz Public School in New Orleans, LA, my hometown. In protest during the first year, all parents withdrew their children from the school.

Hospice volunteers and patients come together as strangers and often discover that they have common histories or characteristics. These familiar experiences and qualities unite them in special ways that take their bonding to another level of understanding. Shared similarities can include civil rights oppression, languages, disabilities, military service, talents, occupations, travel, values, and other factors.

My book Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban Nursing Homes concludes each chapter with an original poem. I was inspired to write this poem while watching my hospice patient sleep. I thought about our shared African American history that bridged our communication beyond her dementia and enhanced my respect for all she represented.

Deeper Than Words

The outside world arrives

wearing my willing face.

Toothless, your smile widens

like a baby’s hungry for attention.

Almost ninety-eight years old,

your inner candle still glows.

A hospice volunteer, I lean closer,

talk into your listening left ear,

“Today is Sunday, Miss Loretta.”

My news drifts away like smoke.

You stare at me through dying coals.

Whatever I ask, you whisper, “Yes.”

I stroke your age-softened arms

while your hazed mind masters sleep.

Watching you, I dream generations

of women black and strong, each one

a book of sustaining stories

about joy, pain, courage, survival.

Within your warm brown frame,

spirits from our common history linger.

Aides say you have dementia,

that you don’t know a word I say.

Our language goes deeper than words.

We speak to each other’s souls.

© Frances Shani Parker

Frances Shani Parker, Author

Becoming Dead Right: A Hospice Volunteer in Urban Nursing Homes is available in paperback at many booksellers and in e-book form at Amazon and Barnes and Noble booksellers.

Hospice and Nursing Homes Blog