Inhuman.

I saw his pictures today.
On TV. Black folks on the streets in black n white... years ago... before i even was.
Let me tell you something...i dont think they did that for me.
No.
Is it possible to be inhuman enough to be so selfless.
No.
Somehow i know they did it for they; them same folks hol'n up posts, scribbled literatures of short words hoping to speak volumes on cards...
They yell. But words are words.
And sometimes it takes years. For those words to get to their ears.

And i saw that man, standing on that one podium, screaming how he had a dream.
I wonder what he would think if he was to be here, if he'd still dream.
If he'd scream his heart out into the crowd, yelling out dreams of freedom...
And if he did, of what would it be?
Freedom from white gods who hold the keys to the mass's senses, or from the contaminating influences of our time
Freedom from those gun shots chasing the people, or the black knukled shooter's range?
FREEDOM!
from the laws that permits a man to love his child in such disgusting ways, i cant dare to imagine...
freedom.... from a mother that makes her child bear it.
Free...
I tell you. We all want to be free. He wanted to be free. I want to be free.
I would ask if, if he was here. If he was still a dreamer.
And why he'd still dream.

But thats not why i write.
I write to thank him for doing for himself, what he did.
I thank him for doing for us what he did.
I thank you.
For being, inhuman.

Most respected. May your people learn to be inhuman, in ways like yours.

RIP, M.L. King.