You won’t believe it.
I knew it as I typed this.
I sat at my office desk.
I glanced at the large monitor.
I adjusted my glasses
and went to work.
A man with a dream.
It was more than a dream.
In a Birmingham jail cell,
begging for peaceful protests.
Civility had no time for threats of violence.
No guns.
No fights.
Just the power of words
and ideas that pierced
the veil of separation
as the norm.
It was more than a feeling.
It’s more than a tattoo.
More than reasons
for changing seasons.
Love guided a dream
over still waters
to soften the hearts of stone.
For all they knew, as sand escapes their fingertips,
into a wishing well of forgetfulness.
Some forgiveness was due to those
who knew the dream was not just for others,
but the dream was for even those
who hated the ramblings of a pastor
who knew his end was near,
but gave his life for a dream
that included everyone, including you.
Maybe now you’ll believe it.