i write tonight from the prophetic space of outside the camp, outside the contemporary defended encampments of us and them, our side and their side and appeal to our deeper self where we real-eyes we are one whole interbeing with the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, where we know a great vision is needed and we are the ones elected to keep the faith and do the work of justice for all… many nights i have shared Langston Hughes poem on letting america be america again… just as i would have liked crazy horse to have used a more inclusive word than man, i would have left off the again for i do not feel we’ve tried democracy yet; some of us have had that privilege while many have not… as i write 140 million americans are hurting needing us to keep the faith and speak truth to power deeply from our heart…
and now may we tune into the poet’s speaking truth and be inspired to keep the faith and take action daily to heal, make whole, repair the breach for all relatives…
~
Let
America be America again.
Let it be
the dream it used to be.
Let it be
the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a
home where he himself is free.
(America
never was America to me.)
Let
America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be
that great strong land of love
Where
never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any
man be crushed by one above.
(It never
was America to me.)
O, let my
land be a land where Liberty
Is
crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But
opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality
is in the air we breathe.
(There’s
never been equality for me,
Nor
freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)
Say,
who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And
who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the
poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the
Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the
red man driven from the land,
I am the
immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And
finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog
eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the
young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled
in that ancient endless chain
Of
profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab
the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work
the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning
everything for one’s own greed!
I am the
farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the
worker sold to the machine.
I am the
Negro, servant to you all.
I am the
people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry
yet today despite the dream.
Beaten
yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the
man who never got ahead,
The
poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I’m
the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the
Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who
dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even
yet its mighty daring sings
In every
brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s
made America the land it has become.
O, I’m
the man who sailed those early seas
In search
of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m
the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And
Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn
from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build
a “homeland of the free.”
The free?
Who said
the free? Not me?
Surely
not me? The millions on relief today?
The
millions shot down when we strike?
The
millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all
the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all
the songs we’ve sung
And all
the hopes we’ve held
And all
the flags we’ve hung,
The
millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except
the dream that’s almost dead today.
O, let
America be America again—
The land
that never has been yet—
And yet
must be—the land where every man is free.
The land
that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made
America,
Whose
sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand
at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must
bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure,
call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel
of freedom does not stain.
From
those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must
take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it
plain,
America
never was America to me,
And yet I
swear this oath—
America
will be!
Out of
the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape
and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the
people, must redeem
The land,
the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The
mountains and the endless plain—
All, all
the stretch of these great green states—
And make
America again!
~Langston
Hughes~
~
may the inward guide and those who have gone before us—the organizers, the advocates, the peacebuilders, and changemakers—inspire us to persistently speak truth to power as we work for the beloved community…
