AUDIO TRANSCRIPT

The Poetry Magazine Podcast: Srikanth Reddy and CM Burroughs on Margaret Danner

Margaret Danner:

(RECORDING of Margaret Danner reading excerpt from “A Thistle” PLAYS)

Because of its spines, the thistle has been misrepresented, called vicious, and although God made it too, even the Bible says it is malicious.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Srikanth Reddy: Welcome to the Poetry Magazine Podcast. I’m guest editor, Srikanth Reddy. This week, CM Burroughs and I dive into the little-known world of Margaret Danner. Born in 1915, Danner was a contemporary of Gwendolyn Brooks and Langston Hughes. She knew them personally. But she never achieved the recognition she deserved in her lifetime. For Burroughs, archival research is a form of faith. I asked her if she’d take us through Danner’s “hair-down letters,” and share what it was like to newly discover a poet from her lineage, as a Black woman writing in America today. We’ll hear one of CM’s poems, “God Letter,” from her newest book, Master Suffering, as well as two poems from Margaret Danner’s own work. Danner wrote about many things: the civil rights movement, African art, gender, class and society. But the question of religious faith was an important thread throughout her life and work. In the early 1960s, Danner converted to Baha’i, a relatively new world religion devoted to the unity of all faiths. Today, we have the pleasure of also hearing from the musical director at the Baha’i Temple, just outside Chicago, Van Gilmer. Here’s Burroughs and me talking about Margaret Danner, Black faith, and race in America today.

CM Burroughs: I came to Margaret Danner with complete ignorance. She is part of my lineage as a Black female poet, right. But I’d never heard of her before. And I am interested in bringing to the fore those poets whose names have been a bit lost.

Srikanth Reddy: I mean, that’s so much like what we’re trying to do for Margaret Danner. And it’s exciting. I feel like we’re at a time when Black poets from the twentieth century are entering into the canon more fully. You know, every intro poetry class teaches, you know, Gwendolyn Brooks or Langston Hughes, and so on. But there’s a lot that’s kind of buried also, when you kind of promote certain writers.

CM Burroughs: Yeah, yeah, that’s a good word for it, buried. You know, buried by what people think is the canon now, but is ever evolving. And it’s high time with young Black poets. It’s like time for us to bring the folks behind us forward into social media and all that’s modern that’s happening now, contemporary, that’s allowing the work to be in front of more people.

Srikanth Reddy: And you, it’s exciting that it would be younger Black poets doing that kind of, like, history, like, that archaeology, but it’s also must feel like a responsibility and a thing that, you know, might take you away from your own writing, or, you know, yeah. 

CM Burroughs: Well, so, responsibility. I mean, so it is a kind of responsibility, but it’s one where I feel the charge for it, and not the labor of it. There’s a way that I think about archive searching as a romantic thing to do as a writer, right? I don’t—I keep, my mind keeps going back to this word, faith. And so, I have a certain kind of faith in Black writing, and Black canonical inclusion, that causes me to persist in learning about authors who are not in the public eye.

Srikanth Reddy: Well, we’re gonna be talking about faith today, because faith is a large part of Danner’s story. And your story, I mean, as a writer, too. But before we get there, I’d love to hear what it was like for you to, like, encounter this Black woman poet, you know, writing in mid century, you know, died 50 years ago, who you’d never heard of before. (LAUGHS) And just do a deep dive into her papers, right, before you even read the poetry, I guess. Is that true? Or?

CM Burroughs: Yes, actually, it’s true.

Srikanth Reddy: It’s a funny way to get to know a poet, right? Like, it’s like you get to know them as a person first and then as a writer.

CM Burroughs: Yes, because as I opened the archive, the first thing I came into contact with were her letters, her correspondences between herself and other poets. There were poets that I’d heard of before. So she was a great friend of Robert Hayden. She calls him Bob in the letters. And so, getting to know her was a process of making up her, the landscape of her friendships as well. And that made her more intimate.

Srikanth Reddy: When I was looking through those papers, I kept seeing these letters to Bob. And I was like, “Who’s Bob? Who’s Bob?” Because it doesn’t say Robert Hayden in the letter. And so you have to kind of map yourself onto like, who’s Cal? Who’s Bob, who’s, you know?

CM Burroughs: Yeah, yeah.

Srikanth Reddy: So, at what point did you realize that Bob was Robert Hayden, the celebrated Black American poet, whose poem, “Those Winter Sundays,” is like one of the most clicked-on poems in the Poetry Foundation website?

CM Burroughs: Yes, absolutely. “Those Winter Sundays” is one of my favorite poems.

(RECORDING of Robert Hayden reading excerpt from “Those Winter Sundays” PLAYS) 

Robert Hayden:

… my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love’s austere and lonely offices?

CM Burroughs: It was later in the letters when I found out Bob was Robert Hayden. And I was blown away by thinking, “Oh, my gosh, this poet who I know about was actually friends with her.” And it makes the world smaller, in a way, to think about these friendships that were happening, right, between Black artists. Margaret Walker is mentioned in one of these letters to Robert Hayden. And so there’s a, there’s a bit of world building that happens in those letters.

Srikanth Reddy: Yeah, yeah. And you see the kind of, how the sausage is made, too, of American poetry. Yeah. She’s asking him for—Margaret Danner is asking Robert Hayden for favors again and again in the letters, right?

CM Burroughs: Yeah, she needs, you know, jobs. There’s one letter where she’s asking him for advice. And she doesn’t, in that letter, portray what she needs advice for, but you know, it’s an urgent request.

Srikanth Reddy: And I love how she kind of complains about her typewriter while she’s typing the letters. And you see the typewriter writer get all wonky. And so then you, so you kind of came to her, it sounds like, through this kind of, I mean, we think poetry as very intimate. But there’s something even more intimate about getting to know someone by reading their letters. It must feel, like, invasive, in a way, right?

CM Burroughs: It might be invasive. But it’s so exciting. You know, it’s easy to find a copy of her book, Down of a Thistle, and—well, maybe not easy, but—

Srikanth Reddy: CM and I have the only two copies in the Chicago land area.

CM Burroughs: (LAUGHS) Yeah, you can find it, you can read her verse. And, you know, I can say, okay, I know the work of Margaret Danner. But now, with these letters, I, in some ways, know the mind of Margaret Danner very deeply. She was also writing to a publicist. And in this, she was describing problems with getting her name in the world as a Chicago poet, problems with something as relatable as procrastination. She describes what she does when she procrastinates. You know, reading detective stories was one thing that she did when she wasn’t writing. So it’s something I do, it’s beautiful to be able to read the normal day-to-day muck of people’s lives.

Srikanth Reddy: (LAUGHS) Right.

CM Burroughs: They aren’t just a poet. They’re a poet within my lineage, with whom I have some things in common. And this is where sort of Black femininity comes in. I could relate her as another woman, as a Black woman in the poetry world. It just felt a bit familial.

Srikanth Reddy: You call it a hair-down letter. Is that what you call it?

CM Burroughs: Yes! Yes.

Srikanth Reddy: What’s a hair-down letter?

CM Burroughs: She calls it—so Margaret, in one of her letters to the businessman publisher, Hoyt Fuller, says that she hopes he’ll forgive her “hair-down letter,” which, in that context, it means it’s a more casual letter. She’s not talking about business or anything like that. It’s a very friendly, somewhat confessional letter.

Srikanth Reddy: And you’re, I mean, a letter writer.

CM Burroughs: Mm-hmm.

Srikanth Reddy: You know, I mean, the “God Letters” in Master Suffering are so powerful, and they’re letters that you’re never going to get a response to. You wrote a letter to Margaret Danner in this issue of Poetry magazine that you’re not going to get a response to. (LAUGHS)

CM Burroughs: Right.

Srikanth Reddy: But what does it mean? I mean, to write letters now to a poet from the 1950s, or to God?

CM Burroughs: Yeah.

Srikanth Reddy: I’m thinking about this question of faith that you, you know—

CM Burroughs: Mm-hmm. I came upon the notion of using the epistolary form when I began to have conversations with fellow poets about religion and/or faith. Because I haven’t always been a believer myself. So understanding others’ belief systems is really interesting to me. And it occurred to me to write these letters, these epistolary poems to them, in response to what I learned.

Srikanth Reddy: You say, “I haven’t always been a believer by myself.” And that’s an interesting verb tense to use. (LAUGHS) What was your experience of religion growing up? And how has that changed?

CM Burroughs: I realized my response implies that I am a believer now.

Srikanth Reddy: Yeah.

CM Burroughs: That is up for debate. So, I can’t—even though I went to church, I went to Baptist Church, I went to African Methodist Episcopal Church, I can’t recall having a fevered response of knowledge of God. You know, I remember the ritual of God. But I, I don’t think that’s the same thing. As I wrote the poem in Master Suffering, “God Letter,” I really had a chance to question, accuse, and level with God, however, he/she exists, right? The center of Master Suffering is the death of my younger sister from sclerosing cholangitis, which resulted in her rejecting a liver transplant. And so, around that, around her sickness, illness, and that that was years of illness, we went to church, we prayed, we counseled with our pastor. And I think then, I believed or I really needed to believe there was something out there, right? Because I needed my sister to get better. And, of course, she didn’t. Once she had her transplant, she had one really amazing, happy normal year of life. And then her body rejected it, which then starts to get into the mechanics of the thing, right? But it also goes back to this notion that, well, if prayer didn’t work, and science didn’t work, then where does that leave me? I was in no place. And full of grief.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

CM Burroughs: 

(READS POEM)

God Letter

Everybody is doing trigger warnings now, so
To Whom It May Concern, I hated God
when my sister died. I didn’t know it was
coming, but we were at the hospital in a private
room for family, and our pastor
was there, the one who baptized me, and 
he said Let us pray, and I kept my eyes
open to watch everybody, but
listened, and when he said Sometimes
God has to take back his angels,
I was smart enough to know, I was 14, that
he was saying she was gone or going
and I loathed him so much, he didn’t see
the look on my face, that blazing anger
blank heart f-you-forever look, but then
my parents told us we were going to
take her off life support, and I died then,
and after they took away the machines we had
solitude, family time the five of us, mom,
dad, me, my brother, and my sister. Holding her
body she was warm she wasn’t conscious
but she could hear us I know it, then they
opened the door for other family to 
say goodbye and I was hugging her back
in her bed, my face against her face, my tears
wetting her cheek it was flush and her wavy
hair, I wanted to hold her forever I was
hurting but felt selfish like other people
wanted to say goodbye too so I let go,
and her head kind of tilted to the side and
I straightened it so I was a mess then
goodbye goodbye we left there to clean
the house for mourners to come.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Srikanth Reddy: You were kind of born into the church, or, you know—

CM Burroughs: Sure.

Srikanth Reddy: But you never had, like, a kind of conversion experience. You know?

CM Burroughs: Yeah.

Srikanth Reddy: And this poem is kind of like about unconversion, the opposite of a conversion experience, right, of feeling hate.

CM Burroughs: Oh, yeah. Yeah, this is, this is the exit door right here. You know, and it’s, it’s that part in the poem where her head tilted and I had to, I had to physically fix it, that destroys me in the poem every time. And the memory of it is acute. It’s that moment where I say, “Okay, enough, I’m done,” you know, in essence. And I wasn’t baptized till I was maybe 10 or 11, maybe. But you’re right in that I was born into the church. And it was maybe an expectation that I would be a believer. And it was certainly not a welcome notion when I confessed myself to be then atheist.

Srikanth Reddy: So you kind of came out to your family?

CM Burroughs: Oh, yeah. Totally.

Srikanth Reddy: Wow. So you’re coming from a place of real, I mean, familial, and like, kind of historical involvement with organized religion.

CM Burroughs: Yes.

Srikanth Reddy: Would you read, also, because I’m thinking about, about how Margaret Danner was born into a Christian Science family, and had an experience of conversion, very different from your unconversion. (LAUGHS)

CM Burroughs: Mm-hmm.

Srikanth Reddy: You dug up a very interesting document in her papers that I was wondering if you could share with us.

CM Burroughs: So, Margaret Danner does express a great love for the Baha’i faith in her letters. And there’s one she wrote to a friend in the ’60s, that reads, “I would like to declare my faith in Baha’i and to join with others of this mind. At a time when the US is more in need than ever before of right thinking, among its citizens, I seek to join with those who are actively demonstrating right thinking all over the world.” And, you know, I see this as probably being a more than natural response to racism, and the civil rights movement. And she was part of the offices of the Poetry Foundation, the Poetry Magazine at the time. So she was managing a lot. I bet that it was really lovely to come home to people who believed wellness and friendship for everyone.

Srikanth Reddy: So, there’s so much to think about here. Baha’i in the ’60s and civil rights and Black religion in that period. But can you say a little more about Baha’i? Did you know about Baha’i before you kind of came across this letter?

CM Burroughs: No, I knew nothing about Baha’i.

Srikanth Reddy: (LAUGHS)

CM Burroughs: I did not know that there was a Baha’i Center, in Wilmette County, Illinois. Since I found out about Baha’i, other poets, including Pulitzer Prize-winning author, Tyehimba Jess, has told me, “You have to go. It’s beautiful.”

Srikanth Reddy: You totally have to go. Yeah, it is beautiful. (LAUGHS)

CM Burroughs: Yes!

Srikanth Reddy: I used to go when I was a kid, with my parents.

CM Burroughs: Really?

Srikanth Reddy: We’re South Asian. My parents are Hindu. And they used to take me to the Hindu temple when I was growing up. But Indians love Baha’i. Because it’s like this, it’s this syncretic world religion from the late 1900s—it comes out of Iran—that believes in the unity of all religions. And so they recognize Jesus Christ and the Buddha and Muhammad and the prophets of every religion as being coequal with one another. And, you know, it’s the perfect immigrant religion, because my parents could say, you know, “Look, this is a place where we can be Hindu and accepted and around other people of other faiths.”

CM Burroughs: Yeah. Right. Yes, I like that word, accepted.

Srikanth Reddy: Yeah.

CM Burroughs: Because I think that was what Margaret Danner was hoping for. Having Baha’i and having a friend like Robert Hayden in the faith, made it feel like a really gracious home for her, is the sense I get from the letters.

Srikanth Reddy: One thing about Black religion in the ’60s for someone like me, who knows nothing about it, is that I kind of had viewed it as being kind of like, bifurcated, you know, between the kind of Christian civil rights kind of movement of Martin Luther King and others, and the kind of Black Islam of Malcolm X and Nation of Islam. I’m just wondering how you see, because you’re, like, Margaret Danner’s best friend after reading all her letters, you know, her choice, her decision to convert to Baha’i at this divided time.

CM Burroughs: So, it occurs to me that it just might have been a safe space. She didn’t have to choose, right, King or Malcolm X, necessarily. Yes, a safe space with people who look like her and people who don’t.

Srikanth Reddy: Yeah, yeah, absolutely. I mean, I think that—there’s a poem of Danner’s called, “Through the Varied Patterned Lace” that kind of speaks to those desires.

CM Burroughs:

(READS excerpt from “Through the Varied Patterned Lace” by Margaret Danner)

I am exalted.
I am exalted to recognize His Grace
shimmering through the varied patterned lace.

There is God’s Good in every man
whether Russian, 

Van Gilmer: 

(FADES IN, READING excerpt from “Through the Varied Patterned Lace” by Margaret Danner)

whether Russian, French, Italian, or America

And glowing so in you,
O, Ibo, Yoruba, Zulu, Congolese, Fan.

I look at you and feel It flooding me.
Divinity must win the race. It will not be halted.

We are all small sons of one clan.
I am exalted.

(Baha’i House of Worship Choir SINGS)

Van Gilmer: My name is Van Gilmer. And I’m the music director for the Baha’i House of Worship for the North American continent. That period, the early ’60s, when Margaret Danner became familiar with the Bahá'í faith, it was a tumultuous time. I was arrested many times as I would go downtown and, and sit in at lunch counters or stand in line to get in a theater. And it was immediately after that period that I discovered the Baha’i faith.

Srikanth Reddy: Van Gilmer grew up attending a Baptist church in Greensboro, North Carolina.

Van Gilmer: Everything was segregated in America. As a Black boy and a Black young man, I only went into white world, as we would call it, which would be the city, you’d go downtown and say, “Mama, I’m thirsty,” and you’d have to go to a place that had fountains that we—it would have to be a place we could go in. So it was in this environment that four Black freshmen went downtown and sat at the Woolworth’s lunch counter. I was a senior in high school. I knew two of them, because two of them were from Greensboro.

Srikanth Reddy: In January of 1963, Van first learned about the Baha’i religion when a neighbor asked if he would sing at a World Religion Day gathering. He was 19 years old.

Van Gilmer: I had to think about whether I would join that group or not. Joining that group meant I leave a large Black community that worships together. I now go to a home, because mostly, Baha’i communities were meeting at homes. White people’s homes. Unbelievable! I hadn’t even been allowed to go into white people’s homes. I was afraid to even go into the white neighborhood. And I discovered this faith which says, “All men are created equal.” It’s like everybody says, but here I could see it. I could not just hear about it. I could see different people, different levels of education, different colors, worshiping together. So, writing a poem like “Through the Varied Patterned Lace,” to me, feels like celebrating our differences. And being together exalts us. 

(Baha’i House of Worship Choir SINGS)

Srikanth Reddy: Thanks so much to Van Gilmer for speaking with us, and to the Baha’i House of Worship Choir. Now, back to my conversation with CM Burroughs.

CM Burroughs: I do love this poem. It’s beautiful, right?

Srikanth Reddy: Very beautiful. It feels like liturgical, like you could read it at a Baha’i service, right.

CM Burroughs: Absolutely.

Srikanth Reddy: This is a hard question, and I don’t know if it has an answer. But, how does it feel to read this poem today, as a Black poet in America after Charlottesville, with its language of exaltation and unity?

CM Burroughs: Mm-hmm. It’s hard to reconcile this poem and the lines, “Divinity must win the race. It will not be halted,” with what’s happening to, really, Black people today. And on one hand, I suppose, well, one must believe this. If you can count on anything it must be on your faith in God, because nothing else is helping, right? And on the other hand, I mire myself in the tragedy, tragedies and traumas that keep happening, and I don’t see a way out, except for America to make some existential changes that actually matter to its people.

Srikanth Reddy: And does that feel like, like we’re at a place where religion again becomes part of the conversation? Or do you feel like religion, like Margaret Danner’s Baha’i faith, like Leroy Jones’s conversion to becoming Amiri Baraka, like many other poets of the 1960s felt faith at the center of their literary practice—

CM Burroughs: Right.

Srikanth Reddy: Do you feel that that’s happening now? And also, for you as a writer? You know, I mean, how is it happening for you now as someone who writes God letters, and, you know?

CM Burroughs: Oh, Chicu.

Srikanth Reddy: (LAUGHS)

CM Burroughs: What a question. Oh, my gosh. Okay. Alright.

Srikanth Reddy: Well, you’re talking to other poets about religion, right?

CM Burroughs: Yeah.

Srikanth Reddy: Yeah.

CM Burroughs: And how dare you bring that up. (LAUGHS)

Srikanth Reddy: (LAUGHS)

CM Burroughs: So, in the time we’re talking about, in Margaret Danner’s time, I think, where else could one have gone? But to church? And where else could one go, but to like-minded people who could be considered and/or are family? And so I understand her exaltedness, right, in this very safe, communal space. And I can say that now, people might ask, “Well, where else can I find solace?” Right, but in my faith, in the faith that things will get better. Or the faith that I can carry this, too. Now, my own engagement with the “God Letters” has been so personal to the death of my sister, that, I mean, it’s a strange thing to think about building a personal faith, or religion, I should say. Because I really don’t think about God too unattached from my sister. I think both bodies, body of religion, body of my sister, were quite intertwined at the time. I remember a time in high school and college when I couldn’t stand to be near conversations about religion, because I felt so betrayed. And I would get up and walk away if one was happening near me, because it would make me angry. And now of course, I’m perfectly happy to hear about the practices of one religion or another from a friend, and what, really, what buoys them in times of great difficulty.

Srikanth Reddy: Yeah, it feels to me like, in the “God Letters,” you’re writing letters to God, but you’re also kind of writing letters to other Black poets about religion. And it’s like you’re kind of forming your own church, in a way, or your own kind of religious study group, right? Is that a way that you see disorganized religion? (LAUGHS) Right?

CM Burroughs: I don’t know why I want to shake my finger at you right now. But I feel that you’re asking me these questions that make me think about things that I have not considered before. (LAUGHS) And so, to think about this collection of epistolary poems in Master Suffering as a kind of faith building is interesting. I, I know that part of me resists it, and another part wants to say, “Of course, that’s what I’m doing.” Or, “Of course, I’m talking to myself toward it,” which is pretty scary. Very scary, in fact.

Srikanth Reddy: Just wait until we go to the Baha’i temple.

CM Burroughs: (LAUGHS)

Srikanth Reddy: Yeah.

CM Burroughs: (LAUGHING) Did my parents put you up to this?

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Srikanth Reddy: (LAUGHS) Yeah, they’re Baha’i too now, I didn’t tell you.

CM Burroughs: I knew it.

Srikanth Reddy: So we have a recording of a poem from a poetry reading that Margaret Danner gave in Memphis, Tennessee. And you’ll hear her kind of patter and introductory remarks leading up to the reading of the poem itself.

Margaret Danner: This is “A Thistle.” Now, it is a real thistle. I became involved with the thistle, because as I walked into a room of a very important person, and I was there to impress him and be my most beautiful best, the man looked at me, and under his breath, he said, “thistle.” Well, how could I relate to that? He immediately covered it up. I said, “Thistle?” And he tried to carry it away, you see. But I was intrigued. And so then I began doing research on the thistle. I doubt that this man who said “thistle” was thinking of this exotic flower when he saw me shirking, but um—

(AUDIENCE LAUGHS)

(READS POEM)

Thistles, protea accorded reverence
in Africa, their home.
They wear their many-sized, shaped,
and shaded down, as fluffy tiaras.

And people everywhere ,
who can afford them,
import them, in ice-cooled,
first-class compartments,
to dress and bless
their offices and homes.

But there are many thistles who
having had no royal passage
were seized and thrown into holds,'
stumping over humps of humiliation, degradation,
making spines of their many lumps
in order to protect their crowns.

And the stormier the path
the thornier the thistle
until now nearly everyone is so busy
avoiding the thorns
that few get near enough
to enjoy the down. 

(Baha’i House of Worship Choir SINGS)

CM Burroughs: I love hearing her enthusiasm, and the expression of her voice is gorgeous. And I mean, I immediately think of this as a very contemporary poem, insofar as how the Black body is treated in America. 

(Baha’i House of Worship Choir SINGS)

CM Burroughs: As I read this, I see her working through the complications of how she sees the survival of the Black body. So, this “making spines of their many lumps in order to protect their crowns.” And then there’s this notion about ability and wealth with, “and people everywhere who can afford them.” Right? “Import them.” And, you know, that strikes me as a great metaphor for the transatlantic slave trade.

Srikanth Reddy: It’s like if Leaves of Grass is an image for American citizenry in Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself,” then “The Thistle” might be Margaret Danner’s kind of emblem for Black identity.

CM Burroughs: Yeah, absolutely. I mean, we’ve got, “Thistles are accorded reverence in Africa,” comma, “their home,” period. And we’ve got this intentional marking of homeland here. And this notion of reverence. Gosh, it’d be great if Blackness were afforded the same reverence in America. And the poem ends sweetly, because it says, “everyone is so busy avoiding the thorns that few get near enough to enjoy the down.” And so, she’s persistent in saying, there is beauty here. There is greatness here. If only you slow down to see it.

(MUSIC PLAYING)

Margaret Danner:

(RECORDING plays)

the down of the thistle is as soft as the petal of the rose

Srikanth Reddy: CM, thanks so much. That was really fun.

CM Burroughs: Thanks, Chicu. It was.

Srikanth Reddy: A big thanks to CM Burroughs, Van Gilmer, Joyce Litoff, the Baha’i House of Worship Choir, and Kathleen Feeney at the University of Chicago archive for making this episode possible. You can read a series of Margaret Danner’s poems, as well as CM Burroughs’s epistolary dialogue with Danner in March 2022 issue of Poetry, in print and online. The poem you heard today is from Burroughs’s most recent collection, Master Suffering, published by Tupelo Press. If you’re not yet a subscriber to Poetry magazine, there’s a special rate for podcast listeners. For a limited time, you can get a full year of the magazine for $20. That’s 11 book-length issues for just $20. Visit poetry magazine.org/podcastoffer to subscribe. That’s poetrymagazine.org/podcastoffer. This show is produced by Rachel James. The music in this episode came from Resavoir, Alabaster DePlume, John McCowen, Rob Mazurek, Irreversible Entanglements and the Baha’i House of Worship Choir. Okay, that’s it. Until next time, be well, stay safe, and thanks for listening.

(MUSIC PICKS UP AND FADES OUT)