Ieshia Evans On The Bayou

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Jacqueline OBoomer

Ieshia Evans on the Bayou

The ones who were afraid in Baton Rouge
Were the ones carrying the “red sticks”
Not the warrior queen who visited from the north
On behalf of her five-year old son
So she might invest in
His having a better life.

A better life
Than the sons of other mothers
She had gone there to mourn with
And stand proudly for.

She repelled the “red sticks”
Who were few in number
But seemed to grow into
A wall before her
As she stood her ground
Quietly in front of them.

She was a nurse who cared for others
Who said she was now “a vessel”
Doing God’s work.

The young queen arrived in regal garb
Regal in that it adorned her presence
Regal in that it could almost be said
To adorn ours.
She dressed for the moment
So that – standing in the hot sun
Of righteousness and pride –
She could feel as though
She were floating
In God’s air
In Baton Rouge.

The “red sticks” took her away
Took her away from her son
Took her away from her duties
Took her away from the cameras
And the tributes.

But the imprint she left
In the hearts and minds and souls
Of all of us
Remains
As though someone had gone out
And built a statue
Of a modern-day goddess
In every town in America.

The young queen
In the flowing garb
With diamonds in her closed eyes
With grief in her open heart
Sharing the secret:
How to be a woman
How to be a mother
How to be the vessel
How to show us the way
To Baton Rouge.

She stood silently on the gravel
She never spoke
But when we close our eyes
We can almost hear her say
“Ain’t I a woman?”
So that someday her son may say
“I am a man.”

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