The road ahead lies dusty and
long,
But we're going to make it.
One day all men will have a
place in the sun,
And we're going to make it.
Someday we'll all be
brothers
And the injustice born on
each other
Will be gone
And we're going to make it.
But when will the world stop
trying so hard?
When will it wipe the
sweat from its brow
And get to the goal that
we want:
I don't know -
but we're going to make it.
So many people were milling
around
But I was with him in another
world.
I sighed once, perhaps, twice and
my eyelashes felt wet.
He looks so young and alone,
so lost.
A voice sounded, rudely breaking
into my thoughts.
I chattered and joked with my
family, as usual
But one thought remained in
my troubled mind:
I know how I feel, sad and stunned,
But how does he feel?
As he prologues a film about
his brother,
I can't help the oncoming tears
as I cry too, with Robert F. Kennedy.
The valley stretching out
before me
Holds a thousand worlds
of beauty
Like a cup of green
and gold.
On top of the mountain
stretched a road
Like a ribbon bound
around Mt. Olympus.
Figures, numbers float before
my confused eyes
Trying in vain to enter
my muddled brain.
Like a hand reaching for
a light switch
Just out of the reach of
my frustrated fingers.