I’ve never seen things as just black or white.
I see all the shades in between.
They may have taken his body in Memphis.
But they could never take his dream.
Dr. King died for his cause, and now will we live for the same? Willl we hear ‘well done, my good and faithful servant’ when God finally calls our name?
Or will He bow his head in sadness, knowing we didn’t do as asked of us —
So many chose not to love our brother because we branded him a “thug”.
There’s days my soul feels diminished, and the light inside fades.
I wonder will it ever burn out completely, will it just always stay this way?
Why can black men run our touchdowns, rap our lyrics, dribble a ball —
But yet, they can’t lead our nation with out racist, heckling calls.
God forbid they date our daughters, or wear dreadlocks in their hair.
How quickly our southern hospitality turn volatile — out of self-righteous born fear.
No one will ever admit it. “It’s not Obama’s skin!” Of course it is, “He was born in Kenya!” believers. That and his “Muslim” kin.
No one even knows him. No one even tries. Yet when I try to explain it, I’m accused of closing my eyes.
With that we can agree on, I see with my eyes closed. I leave the judging to a character of a man and the goodness that radiates from his soul.
Mandela. Barack. King. All champions in my eyes. If that is not truly seeing. Then I hope I’m always blind.
My heart can see their actions. My ears can hear their words. I’m reminded of God when asked why I care and I refer back to those lyrics from church.
Why do I love Mr. Obama, Mandela, and Dr. King.
Oh, the answer is simple… because they first loved me.