Somehow

I have your dream as well,
o King

and celebrate the verse you sing

on scratchy film, in black
& white -

a shift in consciousness that night
so slight its waves but inches high
yet you spoke truths that none deny

for eloquence is colored clear
to shed its light on hate, on fear

to turn the tide
and woo the moon

(your singing silenced
much too soon)

and every year we name a day
and dream that night in shades of grey

so still we hear, and still we yearn
but somehow
never, ever learn.