Millard Lowe Poet Prose Poetry

Sliding From the Mountain Top

SLIDING FROM THE MOUNTAIN TOP
   (APROPOS MLK: 3)

Lingering in the spaces of time, standing
On the muddy banks of reality, wandering souls
Chase the dream of Moses: the gleamed glory
From the mountain top veiled by the inept web
Of deceptive policies of the word-weavers . 

Dew-clawed changes have lost their mesmerizing       
Magic; reality having waved its wand of truth
Revealing the smiling facades of justice.

Yes we have overcome cowering iniquities
And have reached the valley of the promise land;
But Aaron’s reprieve does not abide here: its asphalt
Altars soaked and stained with the dried blood of our children. 

Here in the shadow of the valley of death, we continue 
Marching and singing anew; our feet wearily worn
With the mud of deceit; vague chants mimic lost
Freedom songs blowing in whispering winds.

Today, the Movement is just a passing scene
Played out on the roller coaster stages of history: 
Praising maids, butlers, buses, bridges…ghost cities…

And the nation mocks the birthday of its Prince of Peace
With black sales days; stirring the painful blood flow
Of memory of buyers feuding at the auction block.

But steadfast we must stand; our audacious God cannot be mocked.
The Dreamer lies dead but the spirit of the dream soars higher
Than the fist of clutched hope; and Sartre’s are still ringing
And their resounding echoes cannot ever be undone! 

This is still the land of the free and the home of the brave;
Sweet land of liberty; and where love and peace abide
Evil injustice cannot hide; the dream is everywhere: 

May we forever be worthy lamplighters of the trust in the Dream.

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