All is not lost when one is unable to get a selfie on the Edmund Pettus Bridge {Bloody Sunday}

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All is not lost when everything and anything your husband grabs for you is paper, words and images from a Bloody Sunday Saturday.

All is not lost when you are allowed some precious time with your uncle of eighty plus years.

All is not lost as you watch your first cousin fill bottles with pills.

All is not lost when you don’t get to step one single foot on the Edmund Pettus  Bridge.

All is not lost on interstates of fast lanes of slow rolling tears.

All is not lost and likely we need some time to linger on our self-built bridges of fear.

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So, I’m sitting in a Birmingham Mickey D’s, typing it out …

Me and Jimmy made a promise pack to come back each year again and again. Me and Jimmy made a promise pack to come back again and again bringing with us folks, family and friends. We made a promise one to the other to come back again and again. Since we were two of over one hundred thousand people in Selma trying to get on a single bridge, we decided to cut our loses and just give in.

The streets of  Selma were full of sun like fun of celebration not condemnation. Pastors, preachers and photographers were a plenty. Words and images were life filled and life preached of the living while loving and learning from the legacy of the dead. Low rolling fences forced travelers like us to be no thing but good and kind neighbors.

All is not lost while loving and learning from the legacy of the dead.

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The streets of Selma smelled of fresh fried fish sandwiched between slices of browned cornered white bread. Our vehicle circled the streets of Selma again and again. From Broad Street to Water there was no way to get in or on the Edmund Pettus  Bridge. The folks of Selma were promised positioned, for this round they would win. While the whole world watched … a planned, plus promised position of fifty years served is much deserved.

The folks of Selma became vendors to the world for the weekend of worship and wonder. With bracelets, scarves, t-shirts and sandwiches plates they would serve. Tents and tickets of soul songs were scattered under dark blue and gospel stars but music for the ear is for all to hear.

Tomorrow …

All is not lost … when you have your own bridge to cross.

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