Spoiler! :
With arms crossed in peace,
And serenity on my face,
I look upon the mall at Washington DC.
I see my brothers in stone, Lincoln, Jefferson, Adams, Roosevelt, and Washington.
Heroes who fought for what they believed in.
I stand in good company.
I see children of all colors who step off school buses,
And stand in awe at the sight before them,
Making my dream true.
They walk down the path towards my mountain of despair,
See the Cherry Blossoms bloom on either side,
Their flower’s rebirth on the anniversary of my death.
They hear the rush water of the Tidal Basin behind me,
It’s separating them from the noise of the city.
They reach the mountain of despair,
And see me, waiting for them.
A stone of hope, my visage cut from it.
A man who gave them the rights,
To give all the colors of humanity the right
To sit next to each other on the school bus.
They walk around me, see me steadfast, unmoving.
A Black man in white granite.
They wonder why I’m white here,
When in all the pictures of then I’m black.
And I wish I could tell them
How my skin now reflects what my skin then showed.
How back in 1963, I walked up the steps of that hero of mine,
Great Lincoln, and spoke of how skin doesn’t matter.
Of how we are all equal, and need not be judged by the color of our skin
But by our actions and deeds.
I wish I could tell the children before me
Of how this was the greatest tribute my spirit, my idea,
Could be given.
Not my address, 1963 Independence Ave.
Not the Cherry blossoms that bloom around me,
Not vast area I sit in.
But by making my skin white,
I’m showed that it’s not skin that matters,
Its deeds.
The world cried when my body died in 1968,
But I wish I could tell them.
How I forgive the man who shot me.
Because what stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in 1963,
Was more than a man, it was a Dream, an Idea.
And Ideas are Bulletproof.
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