Visions Of The Possible
2003 by Lisa Harper
I'm crying now.
Not out of sadness,
but profound gratefulness.
I want to thank the saints
of the movement
who died
so that I could stand in line
and vote!
I want to thank the saints
who marched holes in their shoes
so that I could teach in any school
and sit anywhere I want
and go to any school
and live in any home...
in any part of town.
I want to thank you.
Thank you Ed King.
Thank you Dave Dennis
Thank you James Meredith.
And Fannie Lou Hamer and Annie Devine.
Thank you Daisy Bates
for organizing the 9 little ones
and thank you Elizabeth Eckford
for mustering the courage
to walk through that jeering crowd,
thus exposing the face of hate in America.
Thank you Diane Nash
and Dorie and Joyce Ladner
and Ruby Sales
and Charles McLaurin
and CT Vivian
and thank you, mom…
for standing up to injustice -
for looking it in the face
and speaking
"Truth"
in Love...
to power.
Thank you James Chaney
and Andrew Goodman
and Mickey Schwerner
you gave your lives...
you gave your lives...
your very lives...
for me.
Thank you Ella Baker.
Thank you Rosa Parks.
Your acts of agape love
toward me and your neighbor
have bourne fruit
that will not die.
You sat down
and looked broken shalom
in its screaming face
and said
"No."
"No!" to the absence of the Kin-dom!
"No!" to the broken state of shalom!
"No!" to neighbor beating down neighbor!
"No."
You simply said "No."
and you ignited the Kin-dom's revolution.
The restoration of a piece of shalom!
Dear saints,
your examples are hard to follow.
For none of you operated in the power of
limited human flesh.
You reached high to the sky
and locked hands with God
and God carried you.
She carried you through jeering crowds
and burning crosses.
Through bombed churches
and dark Mississippi roads -
haunted with the shadows of night-riders
and crocked sheriffs.
He carried you through the valley
of the shadow of death
and you did not fear evil
and THAT was your strength.
You walked until you died.
You walked until you could live again.
And the God of Moses held your hand
And you held tightly to your dignity.
Your love - Oh, saints -
is from God.
I do not understand it.
I do not understand it.
I do not understand it,
yet I know
to walk in Shalom
is to walk with YOUR KIND of love
for my brother and neighbor and enemy.
Thank you...
Thank you...
…Thank you...
… for holding on to God's hand...
… and showing us …
… visions of the possible.