Selma: Library of Congress
King They’ve covered miles of terrain between Selma And Montgomery, walking in an exodus from fire That burns us. It is like there will be no other chance For them to walk again, bear down on the doors Of town hall positioned between phallic pillars, As the heat of the sun fails to deliver what suns Are meant to share, behind the back of the march, Now out of Alabama and onward unto Tennessee And beyond to the Carolinas—a whole world walks With them, bundled in wishes and demands they carry On their shoulders, till at last they climb the stairs And drop their concerns at the door. For dogs and boots Have no other way of stopping that kind of gift, the diversity In their one face, not hoses and not even knuckles Or spit can change anything. And since that door Is locked, they make a gate into the next century. The rest of the story is what would finally unfold.