Their shoulders carry us
as we strive for heaven’s door
the age of colossus
is passing the time of
giants gone how
the righteous leave us
with our grief filled
songs. But those songs
will carry us
like shoulders do at
heaven’s door.
There is a river running
through this broken heart
of mine it winds beneath
the shadows of moon and
star and while I am standing
in a pool of viciousness
I remember I remember the
arc it bends it bends.
I may not live to see the
rainbow’s pot of gold
Moses only looked upon
the promise and so
I must not linger
under the elder tree no
march upon the highway
that stands for dignity
we cannot rest we cannot rest
until all the people are free.
For in the shadows we
may wander and on the
corner we may hide
in the morning we
shall rise like the sun
forever faithful and in
the evening faithful moon
you are there you are there
so lead us home lead
us home that home where
all the broken
people can sing a mended
song.
In this land of dreamers
where greed has made a home
and hovers over every common
cause our true American heroes
anchor us in community
they keep us strong
so sing with them a
mighty song
where sweet charity
is found and ditch the
math of division
only in unity
are we one.
Remembering John Lewis 1940-2020
Anne's mediocre poetry 