I Will Remember Him
I was a little girl when I heard he was shot and killed.
The TV had it on every channel you could not miss it.
So many comments, conversations of fear, confusion,
anger and disbelief.
I remember becoming afraid like when Kennedy died.
Sitting there a tear streamed down my face for this man
I did not even know.
I knew injustice had just happened.
His words, his voice spoke for peace, love, compassion and
hope, for change that would happen someday.
Yell, I remember at 9 years old listening, watching the marches.
People, were being treated as if they were an infectious disease.
I asked questions, no one ever answered and they told me to be quiet.
My heart was heavy I tried to make sense of it in my child mind.
I was sad, mad and confused.
I remember him.
His face was kind, his voice gentle and I listened when he said
‘He had gone to the mountain’ my heart raced.
My eyes filled with tears I prayed and asked God to watch over
his family and everyone.
His voice was like music in the air, his words showed passion.
Hatred came with men in white sheets, they called themselves the
KKK I call them cowards.
They would, do such cruel and evil things, they killed innocence.
I spit on them, these small men who hide under bed sheets.
I was a kid but I knew change had come, as we had never seen
before and it made people afraid.
Why was I was not afraid? I remember being so sad.
This man of a different color wanted us to love, to get along, he was
so brave, so kind I wish I had met him.
Police, beating them because of color but why?
I had so many unanswered questions with no one to answer them.
They arrested men, women, girls and boys.
Those men in sheets with their faces hidden, the cowards.
I remember when Martin Luther King was shot.
Mourning came across the nation.
He had become a brave warrior who just wanted all
God’s children to live in peace.
This man I never will forget and I always strive to treat
every person as he wanted.
I remember him even though I was a kid.
He was a man with dignity, respect, love, and vision.
Now he is in Heaven and someday I want to shake his hand.
I was just a 9-year-old kid but I remember that day the horrible
injustice they did to him.
I thank him for who he was and his dream for change.
I will always remember him.
What about you?
Copyright © Rhonda Hero Aka Hero-Wilson | Year Posted 2012
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