Sounds of Distant Past: A Black History Month Poem

Sixteenth President
Stands before his people
A nation, divided;
Delivers an address with heated breath
Promises he that the hands of liberty
And the flesh of freedom
Shall not be lost indefinitely...

Sixteenth President
Sits among a silent crowd
Their eyes transfixed;
His thoughts wander
To prophetic dreams of the night
As the heat of a bullet strikes him
Extinguishing breath...

Black Baptist minister
Has a dream
And speaks the sounds of a "joyous daybreak";
His voice permeates
The multicolored paradise
As his hands direct them
Toward the perilous path of sovereignty...

Black Baptist minister
Stands upon a balcony
Knowing the steps he has taken;
His eyes travel skyward
Seeing dreams yet unrealized
As the breakneck bullet strikes him
Suffocating breath...

Thirty-fifth President
Speaks of a "New Frontier"
And breathes the words of a controversial faith;
Through wave of sound and stroke of pen
Tearing through the bonds enwrapping
Steers his shattered nation
To a vision they can all foresee...

Thirty-fifth President
Rides in a motorcade
With thoughts in solitude;
His hands trace a pattern
Across the crowd
As the flaming bullet strikes him
Asphyxiating breath...

Current President
Speaks to a worldwide crowd
And breathes the words that swim through ocean tides;
His voice makes a promise
Sending warmth into our frozen blood
Making certain that the sounds of distant past
Are heard again.