Have not our weary feet come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

NYC32278photo: Bob Aldeman

His suit laid out for the day
Ahead he unwrapped
The motel soap and
Bathed before dressing

On the radio the news
Reported Bull Conner’s blockade
He studied his own
Image in the mirror
As he shaved his face

Ablutions complete, he dressed
For a wedding, for a prison
A blessing or a beating
Because of who he was
Despite what they might do
He polished his shoes

2 Replies to “Have not our weary feet come to the place for which our fathers sighed?

  1. Sanuk,

    Are you the writer of this poem? I have never seen this before. Very moving.

    Cold here in Omaha. Ready to head back to WNC on Tuesday.

    Peace,

    Subduded

    1. Yes, I am the poet
      Don’tcha know it?

      Sorry. Glad you liked it. Little Dude gave an inspired talk about symbology yesterday that put me in mind of this photograph which I had seen in The New Yorker earlier in the morning.

      Enjoy the steak(s).

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