THE WOMAN WHOSE NAME WAS GOOD

In memory of Renee Nicole Good

As far from Texas as geography will allow
citizenship, a new family moved to a Minnesota town
with nascent hopes for life to begin, again,
for a future spun from stories arduous yet full of ardors.

A divorcee, a wife, a mother, a generous friend,
a neighbor checking on the comfort of protestors,
a sweet smile inside an SUV coming from the school
where her son was still walking to his classroom.

…and, in my world, a poet, a woman whose award-winning
college poem admitted doubts that faith could heal
by sliding long hairs behind my ear like my mom used to do
and mouths whispering, make room for wonder.

Thursday, driving through a crowd of cars and armed men,
one of them wanted her out—or him in. No…
Slowly she moved her car away, flashing him her morning smile,
offering the last line of the last poem she would ever write,

That’s fine, Dude. I’m not mad at you.

His point-blank shots were his brutal applause.
The country gasped. The authorities lied.
The people gathered in the thousands, for the girl named Good
Whose testosteroned death could only be called Terrible.

This poem was written by Anne McCrady and first shared at an East Texas candlelight vigil held on a sidewalk in front of painted wings in downtown Tyler, hosted by Indivisible Smith County on Sunday, January 11, 2026, followed by words of witness, prayers of remembrance, inspirations, an A cappella hymn, a pastoral benediction, and silence…

NEWSLINKS: MSNOW, NPR, CNN, AP

AUDIOLINK: SoundCloud

Anne McCrady, annemccrady@gmail.com, @AnneMcCrady, annemccrady.substack.com