MLK

I wrote this piece a couple of years ago on MLK day and put it in the journals I keep for my children. I had been reading the speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. and listening to some of the recordings available on the internet. The words of the past resonated with the current events of the day and this was the result.

Many people rested today, thankful they got another “holiday.” A holiday paid for by the blood, the sweat, the tears, the undying spirit, and yes, the deaths of those Earthly bodies that fought before so that they, too, might share in the dream. A dream, that one day, our great nation would live up to its creed, that it would not default on that promissory note granted with the Emancipation Proclamation. Yes indeed, they died, but through their struggle, they showed that the bank of justice was not bankrupt. Those little black girls who were brutally murdered outside a house of God in Birmingham by the bombs of racist cowards are getting their justice some forty years later. Yes indeed, the dream is still alive. The children of former slaves and former slave owners can now sit down at the table of brotherhood. Little black boys and girls now hold hands with little white boys and white girls down in Mississippi.

The dream is not finished however.

Forty years later, the legacy of racism still casts its dark shadow upon many in our nation. Many of our cities both north and south are still “crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination.”

The dream is not finished.

Forty years later, many still live “on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity.” Forty years later, many still “languish in the corners of American society and find themselves an exile in their own land.” Forty years later, many of our children are robbed of fatherly love because that dream is not finished.

The dream is not finished.

Forty years later, many of our youths are ravaged by the evils of drugs, lured by the promise of prosperity only to find themselves shattered in an endless circle of hopelessness. Forty years later, many of our young men are still victims of profiling and police brutality. Forty years later, our prisons are filled with many of our young men who could not reach that dream, buried by the burdens of the past.

The dream is not finished.

Forty years later, it is time. Forty years later, it is time, that we as a people rise up and make real all the promises of the dream. It is not time to sit back and say that it is enough. It is time to march forward.

Forty years later, it is time. It is time to ensure that all of our children and their children, and their children are given the education that will allow them to fulfill the dream. Forty years later, it is time. It is time to give our children the love and nurturing of a father and a mother.

Forty years later, it is time. It is time to give our young men a beacon that will guide them away from the yoke of drugs and the bondage of prison. Forty years later, it is time. It is time to put an end to the death penalty which is disproportionately handed down to our young men.

Forty years later, it is not enough. It will not be enough until all of our people are allowed to partake in the dream.

The dream is not finished.