one thousand times over.
i would paint the pastures of switzerland and sing
the songs of africa;
write a poem for every brick
of china's great wall.
i would be free
to fly.
but never did i dream that freedom's ride
began on a bus.
for in my dreams we all dance
together to the chime of india's
bollywood beat.
our vibrant colors melt together
and flow
down the mississippi,
where blood once flowed.
the road alongside it
paved by bus riders,
paying the price
so we could be free.
free to ride
free to dream our wildest dreams
and wake
to live them.
some day i will walk
from the sands of egypt,
to the shores of hawai'i
and write in stone along the way:
freedom—
and equality—
for all
is no longer just a dream.
::
last week, while mindlessly surfing our umpteen cable channels, i stumbled upon a PBS broadcast American Experience: Freedom Riders. since then i've tried to make an ongoing conscious effort to refocus my spirit from frivolous worries to gratitude for things we haven't always had: love. equality. freedom.
this february, i remember these things. i celebrate african american history and those who stood up against the face of hatred—in peace. may we honor the freedom riders and those like them. may we seek universal equality. and choose love > hate. always.
