Santa Fe and Chicago bound
hypnotized into quiescence
by our distant embarkation
yet, a hundred miles traveled leaves
a thousand miles to come.
Often slowed by the barricades
carefully chosen for our path
but we made our way cheerfully
for it’s illusion that pacifies.
Dimmer lights call forth sleepers
though no dreams were had this night
Leeward at my mothers side – away
from the storm of their discontent.
Who was Martin, I meekly ask…
answered only in scattered sobs
and dreams that bleed at night.
Shots would ring from Memphis skies
waking us up from our innocence.
As his teacher died, he would die,
dreams deferred to another time.
but incendiary night