I remember when my grandmother told me about the life
blacks had long before my time and I’ve learned
the facts of that life throughout my years growing
as a man. I can never forget the pain in her eyes
that spoke louder than any written text book.
She told me about how she had to watch her people
beaten in the streets as they fought for equality.
She retold her account of watching Martin Luther
King Jr. tell our people about a dream that led
to prosperity. Faith and belief in Dr. King were her
only anchors to hope. That hope is what caused her to
envy yet admire him. Because he would get millions
to follow his word to the end of the world if it meant
freedom awaited. But now my heart holds the tears
of millions as I watched as the first African American
was elected the President of the United States.
The cameras panned the crowds of thousands
of Americans of all races in Chicago where Barack
Obama addressed the people but only one race
had tears of suffering and pain being flushed
away in their eyes. I cried as I listened to the future
President speak with power and purpose because
it meant that nothing could stop me from becoming
what was never possible when my grandmother was
a young girl. I’ve found a beacon of light
out of the darkness surrounding the history of
this great country. I’ve found the heart of a never ending
movement that will drive to the end of time, screaming,
yes we can.
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