John Lewis

Rest in power,

to tall trees

swaying in the heat off pavement.

Rest in power,

to the stillness in the middle of long hot nights

In the South (yes, in the south).

Lord knows,

I’ve been in bad 

and good 

trouble

not even a ration 

as effective

in my own freedom,

nor the freedom of others.

Now, I know

The long arc of 

freedom

bends towards 

gut-ache-sadness

as often as it does justice.

Rest in Power to

the salted earth

where the azaleas still grow.

Rest in Power

to

a millennia—

black as diamonds,

blue as 

the cruel Atlantic.