Monday, January 15, 2007

Making Real the Dream

Martin Luther King, jr. I hold you more dear now than I did before your died. I was a child
who wrote

the man, the dam who stayed the flood
is gone
for now, I wash all violence from my mind
for him
but deep deep deep
runs the river of revenge
the wrongs incense me
the dam is gone

not sure about the line breaks but I remember how his death awoke something fierce and sad in me.
an ache i sobbed when the integrated couple on NPR shared thes tory of the nieghbor rining the bell of the house
and when the black woman asnwered, asked for the lady of the house. I don't know why... worse has does happen but i burst into tears remembering how that store in Pawling would not let me rent a video and how Ira argued with me for 4 hours, didn't believe me until he went back to rent a video machine and this is surely surely not the worst, not death, but it's how that casual denial, the casual insult is a kind of bellwether, how easily you can be stopped, spun around, deterred and even if your skin is thick, it's that you have to go through this somethingwithouit reason

an how this disability has quadrupled the going throughness... black female and disabled? how many ways must i be made separate from the world i came to be in?

it's a dark day, winter has come because it is it's season and i struggle to not succumb and pray pray for help with my burdens

the ache for the taste of a childhood forever gone
ache is the word i've thought about today

when you wish upon a star
o my parents made so much beauty and so much hope and love and still i don't fail it
feet feet feet don't fail me now
o lord hold my hand while I run this race
o lord let me stand let me claim my place


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