Flying On

Photo copyright Wings, 2014; all rights reserved.

A friend gave me the news earlier today: A strong activist voice is quiet tonight; a strong activist woman has walked on.

I knew her as Robinswing. The Blackwoman, as she called herself, was beautiful, powerful, a bird whose song was sung in ringing tones that spoke of equal parts passion and principle, conviction and triumph. She never gave ground or backed down; she called it like she saw it, and she took it straight to the weakest, most vulnerable hidden hearts of those who failed to stand up.

Wings caught the photo above in October: on a dark and dusky day, a lone robin in dim silhouette, far out of season. Alighting for a moment, just before a sundown shrouded in clouds, it balanced delicately but confidently, apparently not noticing the seeming precariousness of its perch in the slightest.

Much the like the woman who was its namesake.

i never got to meet her in person. I never got to deliver a final greeting to this fierce woman warrior before she walked on, as we would say it.

But I don't think she's walked on so much as she's flying on: onward, upward, soaring on the currents of eternity. Perhaps her namesake will deliver that greeting for me one day, after all.

Now run and tell that.