Dream On, Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day 2020

This day of remembrance,
Year Two-Thousand-Twenty,
I wonder if Dr. King knew where we would be?
Would he have imagined a past black president?
The rise of fascism?
Renewed imperialism?
And neo-nazis?
Would he have imagined innocents in cages,
At our nation’s borders?
The threat of another new war?
Would he have imagined? …
I am sure he could have imagined,
But he also would imagine the struggle,
To rise up against hatred and bigotry,
To aim for the “beloved community”
He knew was perpetually in the distance,
It was always a dream,
A dream you can’t quite touch,
But a dream you can’t take away,
With bullets and bombs,
A dream can be reimagined, shared, Reinvigorated,
A dream you can keep dreaming,
If you have the will,
A dream is like a virus,
Inspiring it can spread, and spread,
And take hold of the system,
If not now, then when?
Our dream was his dream,
A dream reimagined,
A dream for our time,
A dream when black lives matter, unquestioned, undoubted,
A dream when immigrants, refugees are free,
And find promised land in the arms of their brethren,
A dream when brutality is not from our law enforced protectors,
A dream when “-isms” are not blind,
And don’t exist at all,
A dream when new divisions are not erected to substitute the old,
A dream we all feel the need to dream;
dream on.

Without the Name

This is war,
Without the name
It’s always been,
The slow erosion of their land,
Of their ways,
Their rituals,
Their families,
Their communities
Their lives

This is war,
Without the name,
Declared through false handshakes,
And broken treaties,
Declared through smallpox blankets,
And stolen children,
This is, was always war
Without the name.

“We Are All the Same”

We want to say
“We are all the same,”
And believe it with our core,
It’s the message we were taught from cut and pasted MLK,
We don’t see the whole picture
If we close our eyes and assert the truth of our sameness,
But are we all the same?
Not in experience,
I cannot say I’ve lived a day in your shoes,
To appreciate how life is as you,
Human, sentient, even then variation makes our experiences
Location, soci political climate,
Characteristics that dictate our place in it,
Social qualifiers that mark our skin, our minds, our bodies, our heritage,
And the histories behind them,
Must not be glossed over,
It must be worked through,
To see the truth beneath,
And the real meaning meant
Of “we are all the same”.


Some can say
“I don’t
Want to
hear it,
See it,
be reminded,
Think about things outside
Of my control”,
“I am comfortable here”,
In ignorant complacency,
Not thinking from another’s point of view,
“This is my space”,
Of chosen apathy,
“I can sugar coat,
Pick and choose
what I subject my mind to”,
Some can forget,
Can remain ignorant,
Can be the fish that swim
Never aware that there is water,
That is their privilege at play,
But I cannot
Remain blind,
My multiple identities remind me every day,
And being aware is my burden,
And I know
I have privileges too,
But I count being awake
As one of them

Too Tough to Taste

We must remember their pain
Let not unease make
Discussing, recognizing “Genocide,”
in it’s various forms,
A topic too tough to taste,
It is in our history,
It is in our blood,
It is in our now,
The stories,
The memories,
The fears,
The politics,
Of a present world,
That we now shape,
It is our duty to make right,
As much as we can,
And to be the seraphim,
Watching over,
To keep a new pain
From beginning again