The man strides to the stage but his words are not just another speech.
In the crowd he hears a voice, singing “Go on Brother, preach!”
She also sees that heaven told him the right moment is this here.
He see a familiar face, her eyes reflect both hope and despair.
Ears reaching to hear him, a mouth that curves upward at his words.
The lines under her eyes match the lines over his paper surface
He looks on with bemused eyes when the cameras tape her nerves.
Both her lines and his eyes understand the nature of the struggle.
He remembers walking around in the night, collecting his thoughts for a dream.
Today his spirit is a bridge over still waters, but yesterday was not so serene.
Every word weighted as worthy because it will be caught on the screen.
Eyes on the camera, he tells himself as hands grasp the lectern and it feels strong..
The same man who said that America itself has guided missiles wrong.
Looks inside to see how America can guide itself right
Thinking to himself, I gotta bring these people to church.
Back to the home I was raised, back to the place of our birth.
He clears his throat, the voice has to be made ready for so dear a show.
Then he cries out with his mouth, those sacred words, “ Fivescore years ago………”