My Feet Grow Weary (For Sarah Parks)

My feet grow weary though I do not stand Back in crowded buses anymore. Long Days of marching have no slanting sun, sand Chains of fear and brittle hope bores our song Jericho beckons us that we may fall. This is the other side where Moses died Kneeling sultry before the promised wall In circling daze of sun is truth denied What we were we shall never be again Except by merit of willful design No love is true with equal disdain. My feet must be my freedom's honored shrine My vote, my testament, my weapon here Dancing on the grave of coward's despair.