Hope to Dream

To my teenage self,

Sixty years ago,

Doctor Martin Luther King

Was a distant voice,

Preaching 

To a troubled nation, 

That violence begets violence,

And all prosperity 

Is rooted in peace. 

His voice still rings

Like an ancient bell

In a Bible story.

Doctor King

Had a dream,

And all God’s children,

Were in that dream,

And of that dream,

Wherein,

As Leonard Cohen said,

Love 

Is the only engine of survival.

When I examine myself

For understanding of the Earth

In these times,

I am all but lost,  

Upon a stormy ocean of events,

Impossible to ignore.

The truth

I can not find,

Nor escape the chains of doubt

In my fellow man.

I think, 

The past

Is never to be bygone,

Nor forgotten

Much less forgiven.

The truth of history

Weighs upon us all 

Like chains.

If we can’t untangle ourselves, 

And all we can do

Is live with the scars, 

That would be something

To hope for,

To dream of even,

In Doctor Kings name:

Hope to dream together

Of bygones

Not forgotten,

Forgiven by God alone

If even He 

Can pardon the chains

My people placed

On yours.

If never forgotten 

Or forgiven,

Calling down a miracle together,

Even Black and White

Might hope to dream yet,

In Doctor King’s name,

Hope to dream