O these places toward which we surge,
pushing into the scant surfaces
all the waves of our heart,
our pleasures and our weaknesses,
and to whom do we finally hold them out?
Rilke (from once I took your face)
A memorial to Dr. Martin Luther King is not made of cement or bronze to last six hundred years past his existence. That is not for him…but for us. A sorely needed tactile reminder of his devoted actions to point and guide us to a right path. One that today is still in need of many feet. He would repetitiously remind us that the thought, the dream, that a seemingly intangible ideal becomes tangible through action. For us to be able to brush our fingers across the cold surface of his heartfelt dream and expect this to represent his dream is impossible. Perhaps this man would not have wanted such an honor bestowed on him…a cut into the air with marble and metals is already his.
A memorial Dr. King would beg from us, plead and pray from us…again, as he did in 1963…is one where no man ever uselessly, needlessly hurts or wants.
Where children can safely walk any street, smiling, homeward bound without their parents fear.
I remember the Los Angeles Riots. I see war torn countries.
Daily news insists that I see the stinging of prejudice, greed and fear in other nations, countries…and sadly counties, and citizens among our nation still.
Dr. King would beg of us to be constant in our search for solutions…to encourage with kindness…to be strong in our Hope for Peace, and he would bestow a blessing upon us that we would walk with Faith to meet the tasks ahead of us knowing that we have a long, long way yet to go.
He would remind us that all races and religions deserve what we desire for ourselves…
Any and all races…African, American or not, Hispanic, Asian, Indian, North American or Hindi , and Caucasian…every belief system, every religion… should be able to find a safe place to rest, to sleep, to congregate, to love one another at all times.
While we may have a good start thanks to so many of our ancestors that came down through life in a timely measure. Including Dr. King. Not one of these great men or women arrived too late or too soon to do the job at hand. Sadly, most left far too soon. And that we still cry these losses says more to the memory, the honor, and the justice behind that dream that Dr. King had than any thing we could create in his memory.
Dr. King, as so many others before him, knew our emotions, our ability to perceive pain and joy, to share this, to impart truth of feeling which creates an action in others, all these could direct what it is that we as individuals really seek… acceptance regardless of our difference, and friendship, companionship while we journey in search of our individual passions…and unconditional love.
Along with our inaliable rights… to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Not yet here….not yet there
Your image lays about me
Your dream a word,
A breath now outward, gone
Into the timeless cavity of bronze
When what was done
Should be the heart and hand,
Warm now, sharing a friendly grip
Instead a pointed finger rises upward symbolically
The fabric no longer moving thread
The brow no longer beaded with sweat
The mouth no longer moist with honey
You, no longer hot in pursuit of truth
I touch the coldness of the cast
These solid fragments,
I weld these memories,
into my present.
Copyright 2006 Kristine B.McAnelly