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.
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