With One Voice

I sat on the steps, cold cement, warm sun,
a crowd of young and old milled about me.
Signs, placards, and the back beat of a drum.

I wonder if anything is the same
today as it was all those years ago.
Can I follow in my father’s footsteps?

Across the street I paused in front of his
image, carved from brass, and etched with his words
I have a dream…do we have the same dream?

I try to understand how you see it –
I try to understand the differences –
I do not understand how we can fight…

With one voice, as varied as we are, we
walk together in peace, looking forward.