Friday, We Journey to Memphis then home...

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).

Following a bloody confrontation between marching strikers and police, a court injunction had been issued banning further protests. Dr. King hoped their planned march would overturn the court injunction, but such plans were cut short on April 4, 1968, when an assassin, James Earl Ray, shot and killed Dr. King on the balcony of his room.

During Dr. King’s funeral a tape recording was played in which Dr. King spoke of how he wanted to be remembered after his death: “I’d like somebody to mention that day that Martin Luther King, Jr.,
tried to give his life serving others”

A sanitation truck.

Striking sanitation workers.

Striking sanitation workers.

Dr. King's I have a Dream Speech

Mural of Sanitation Workers

It seems only fitting to close this blog with a poem by one of our students, Devin Melendez.

Statues

Statues are lifeless with stories behind them.
but the one’s I’ve met today had life, 

they breath, 

they speak, 

they cry but they aren’t from this time. 

As I walked amongst them and with them,
I could hear the stories 

they were trying to portray and the life 

and people they wished to cast out. 

The memories will never fade as the nightmares prolong.
The scars will always stay, even when the people go
their stories are whispered into the wind forever. 

But their sacrifices, the blood spilt, tears that shed
it seems all that mattered in the end is that the fight never ended. 

A new era has begun that they couldn’t see, 

couldn’t hear or feel 

but the people born after 

due to their sacrifice 

remember and celebrate them for eternity.

Gone 

but not forgotten 

statues.

~Devin Melendez