by Sheria Reid
He came bearing dreams,
a drum major for truth,
peeling back layers to reveal
the beauty of our blackness.
Mama says I can't go to Selma,
so I find it on a map,
a small dot that may as well be in Timbuktu.
Montgomery is out of the question.
I march around the back yard
singing "We Shall Overcome,"
imagining that I feel the heat rising
from black pavement
and the hoses washing me down.
We shall overcome someday...
Let's play freedom march!
Slyly I entice my younger brother and sister.
You can lead the march!
But my legs are longer.
I follow him
marching ever onward,
a dark skin black child
reaching for the dream,
believing deep in my heart
we shall overcome
we shall overcome
we shall overcome someday...
