Selma (Freedom assembly post)

Her name was Selma
And she wore 1965 on the INSIDE of her sleeve
Tucked away from the view of the outsiders
But all the locals knew the old patch well enough
Each stitch was stained with their own blood

And Martin Junior loved her so very dearly
But when her father became too handy with the switch
He knew the only place for him was fifty miles down the road

At night, he dreamed of parades
Full of reds and Browns...

Yellows


And dark purples



Bruises and blood puddles
But come morning, he found the papers had published his midnight thoughts
Determined to let the whole world know his thoughts
He made his mind into a printing press
And he slept twelve hours every night

He dreamed dreams of smoke and shields
Guns and guards
But also of pens and paper
With presidential seals as their rosy red cheeks

As the printers ran dry
His vocals became his forefront
And one day, Martin Luther told all of Washington about his dreams
And as the accolades and awareness grew
The resistance become more fierce
Until the day it layed him down cold

But I hear even in heaven, they have telephones
And I'll bet the first thing he did, was give old Selma a call
And tell her about his dream last night
I would bet they talked about how "men like him" didn't fit anymore
And I'll bet he used his every last quarter on that machine

As phone wires turn into cell signals
And marches turn into drives
Our midnight experiences remain unchanged and unhindered
Do not take for granted that which comes in the unconscious

But instead
See what you can do
When you have a dream