Changing our world and all who live there
marching against ignorance and hate
his only weapons were peace and prayer
that was what made this King great.
Equality for everyone was his only plan
a kind soul who dared to dream for us all
given by God, taken away by man
on that dark April day when we saw him fall.
Every human need embrace his just plight
the lessons he taught, we must forever sing
men, women and children, black or white
a nation and the world mourn the brave King
Our father of hope, with the angels he flies.
Now it’s up to us to keep his dream alive.
Thor forewarned me of the impending storm
his hammer thundered in the distant sky
from a gentle breeze the strong wind is born
whipping up the sea as it blows on by
spray from the gale-charged whitecaps sting my face
great swells pound the pier beneath my feet
mimicking foot steps, the waves keep pace
timbers trembling as they run past me
specters of warriors invade the shore
the angry surf crashes upon the beach
sounds of mortal combat with shield and sword
it seems their victory is now within reach.
The sighted can see, all that can be seen.
In blindsight I feel, what all things can be.
Who boldly trespass in the dark of night, leaving only etchings for me to see? Eluding detection, hidden from sight, truly clever intruders they must be. Gravity to them simply does not apply, frolicking about on my sideways pane. Is it magic? Or perhaps they can fly? Ah yes! Flight is the secret of their reign. Visions of whimsy, my mind’s eye beholds. Dancing and skating upon my window’s ice. Seemingly boundless, thriving in the cold; who’s impressions vanish with the new day’s light. As I sleep, they flutter about my home. I take solace, in that I’m not all alone.
My eyes look upon the land of plenty.
From this shelter of canvas and timber.
And still our stomachs are all but empty.
Feelings of happiness are hard kindred .
My breast near empty of life giving food.
I take what I can, that came from the field.
Little comfort for the youngest of my brood.
Mother Nature’s wrath has lessened the yield.
For my children, what future lies ahead?
Will they prosper in the land of the free?
Will I be there? or will I be dead?
A few of the thoughts that keep haunting me.
Thankful that I get to see the sun rise,
And the love and hope in my children’s eyes.