A friend sent this poem to me and it seems only right to post now as we journey to Memphis, Dr. King's last stop in life.
The Birthday of Martin Luther King, Jr.
Between a president who recently died
and one about to begin
we remember a man who was never president.
(We notice the harmonies, and the dissonances.)
See how our choices matter—
not our position, nor our power, but our character.
We remember Martin, who was famous,
and in his name thousands more who were not,
but just as brave and merciful and mighty.
We remember all those who were peacemakers,
the nonviolent seekers of justice who have gone before,
and those who are now among us, without office.
We give thanks for those who stood against injustice,
who faced violence, hatred and anger with gentle courage,and we pray for that spirit as well:
that we will not walk with the haughty and the cruel,
that we will be truthful and kind,
that we confront the power to exclude with the power to love.
With blessed leaders showing us the way,
we pray that we will choose love over fear,
generosity over selfishness, service over supremacy.
We give thanks for the saints who have gone before,
link arms with the saints who risk even now,and with their song in our throats, we carry on.
By Steve Garnaas Holmes in Unfolding Light
We spent our last day at the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, Tennessee located at the Lorraine Motel. On April 4, 1968, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was assassinated here at the Lorraine Motel, just a day after delivering his prophetic "I've Been to the Mountaintop" speech.
Dr. King, Ralph Abernathy, Andrew Young and other black leaders came to support 1,300 striking sanitation workers. Their grievances included unfair working conditions (on rainy days, black workers had to return home without pay while paid white supervisors remained on the job, and black workers were given only one uniform and no place in which to change clothes), and poor pay (the highest-paid black worker could not hope to earn more than $70 a week).
tried to give his life serving others”
but the one’s I’ve met today had life,
I could hear the stories
The scars will always stay, even when the people go
their stories are whispered into the wind forever.
it seems all that mattered in the end is that the fight never ended.