Arlonzia Pettway's poem

The Path
Never make a path somebody else made.
First you make your own path.
Great Grandmama Dinah walked this path
With her quilt pieces and her thimble and a needle in her hand.
But she never reached the intersection.
She passed on.

Grandmama Sally, her daughter,
Stepped in her footsteps.
Travelled the path so many miles
With her quilt pieces and her thimble and a needle in her hand.
But she never reached the intersection.
She passed on.

Missouri Pettway, my mama,
She stepped into the same path,
Travelled the path so many miles
With her quilt pieces and her thimble and a needle in her hand.
But she never reached the intersection.
She passed on.

Who am I? I'm Arlonzia Pettway, her daughter.
I stepped into the path.
And Mary Lee Bendolph, Nettie Young, Annie Mae Young, Lucy Mingo
And other quilters of Gee's Bend
We stepped on the path
We've travelled the path
Travelled, travelled, travelled the path.

We heard a noise,
We were near the intersection
We heard the cars a-roaring
Cars going north, south, east, and west.
No one asked us
"Where are you going?" or "Who are you?"

I looked again. I saw the Arnetts coming.
They came to us and said, "Where are you going?" and "What are you looking
for?"
I said, "We're looking for the house of joy and the house of peace and the house of love."
They said to us, "Follow us as we follow God, and we'll take you there." So they did.
They took us to the house of joy, the house of peace, and the house of love.
And we are very happy for them.

- Arlonzia Pettway, February, 2005