Martin had a dream of inclusion and equity
Perhaps I am having one now, I hope so.
The country is closed for argument with only a few figures in the spotlight heard.
The first black president stands quietly
facing the window in the Oval Office.
I who saw the clan when I was young
felt the invisible but powerful healing
transforming our country when he was elected.
The law protects him against the
So they call him a Moslem instead,
the newest profanity of small gods,
and give animated testimony
about his plot for America’s destruction.
There are foxes manipulating the news.
Elephants, fearful, maddened by pain,
trumpet protest of their vanishing world,
stampede, In an effort to eradicate
the emergent and unique beginnings
of the one that follows.
I do not know the words that run through his mind
But, if we have anything in common
I would understand exhaustion and despair,
The ragged edges of persistent determination,
and seemingly endless grief.
The frosting coats the drive it has cracked,
crêpe paper wrinkles in the wet fall air
the balloons, losing helium, hang lifeless on their strings
reaching for the floor.
I wonder if he also fears
that we will never celebrate equality