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.