I saw three young men clad all in black
Except for bright white tennis shoes.
I’m rather pleased that my first thought
Was “They could use a fashion muse!”
No sense of dread came rising up
From deep within some hidden core
Of long forgotten biased fears.
No deeply planted racial lore.
Just three young men clad all in black
All wearing bright white sneakers
Out for a stroll this Saturday
Not some heartless violence seekers.
Perhaps they want more festive dress.
I pray they avoid unpleasantness.
Barely has the dawn
Cracked… And the day’s off racing
To a dusky close.
Cried the novice out, in fear,
“The road is all down hill from here!
But thrice my age you are, at least
And yet, it seems you still find hope.
How have you slain this fearsome beast?”
Spake the sage, in voice most deep,
“When the hill you’re on is way too steep,
Must you never surrender hope.
You can always bend the curve
And, in so doing, change the slope.”
“But that would mean a longer path,
How ever will you get there fast?”
“Life’s not about a race to run;
It’s about a journey that can be fun!”
The slow march of time,
behind, like shadows
destined to overtake us
no matter how fleet we are.
Without an escape,
what purpose in running on?
Better not, is it
to relish the scenery
and the warm evening sun?
A flag was flying inverted,
a symbol of distress.
“Do they know?” I wondered,
“or it is it simply
After all, this Nation is,
or so it seems to me,
made to labor in duress,
shackled to a legacy
of agony and heartlessness.
What can we do
of bondage and of shame?
For if we can’t achieve this goal,
our children’s lot
will be the same!
I, for one,
would rather not
leave my little boy
chained to all that suffering,
but have him finding joy.
I’m sure that I am not alone.
I’m sure that you would want that too.
Together shall we take an oath
to find, and do, what we can do?