remembering martin (8)

remembering martin

…his spirit must have nightly floated free

though still about his hands he felt his chains.

who heard great "jordan roll"? whose starward eye

saw that chariot "swing low"? & who was he

that breathed that comforting, melodic sigh,

"nobody knows de trouble i seed"?

james weldon johnson

no supernal presentation marked yr birth.
no special alignment of known planets. no
shield of david pressed upon a grand cross
no eight pointed star. no angelic hosts no
magi & none foretold yr coming. yet were u
born the first son & second child into a black
middle-class family of kings. the son of the
son of a preacher, three & twenty days past
the winter solstice, in the season of christ

& caesar, on 501 auburn avenue ne. atlanta.
no one knew then, michael, that u would
change yr name; assume a nom de guerre
for yr appointed social role: michael to

martin, the quintessential protesting cleric –

not against a corrupt universal church & the

purchased forgiveness of sin, but against

inertial forms of personal & social living

that resist acceleration & change; against

the forms of overt & institutional racism

that seek indulgences; the remission of

punishment. no one knew then, michael,

that u would be the focus,the coxswain,

the shepherd of the transforming & creative

response of spirit to a disparate &

disintegrated people; rootless, aroused &

demanding africans wandering in the

wilderness of america’s intellectual

generalizations, formulas & standardizing
regulations – suffering in the midst of

plenty. no one knew that u would utter a

new logos, a new word of power to project

on all unintegrated americans; unleash the

power of a dream.
neither did u, martin, perforce the more-

house college maxim: to uplift the human

race through responsible citizenship; was

naught but a subliminal goad when u tarried

there. nor did crozer & a divinity degree
bring sudden disclosure of the meaning of

yr destiny. no, non-disclosing spirit piqued

the course of yr life’s events. that same

spirit gave resonance to yr message;
made it the answer to the needs of the

millions unable to accept, to endure

american social living.
it focused & projected a new kind of

humanity, a new kind of personhood; it

activated new human faculties. but it

revealed itself to u, first, when the

stubborn courage of an alabama seamstress,

too tired to give up her seat for oppression –

whose wholeness unmasked in an instant of

resistance her essential identity – induced
in u a charge u were compelled to keep;

raised yr vibratory rate, made u shine

with an inner light – the light that alone
integrates the chaos of the world. the rest,

as they say, is vulgate history. that light,

though, was the substance of yr message

& yr dream. we clamored for freedom, but

u dancing, like a drum major at the head

of the parade, like a will–o’–the–wisp,

showed us that freedom isn’t free; that it

is dearly bought & paid for in the often bloody

coin of personal integrity & responsibility.

yr message & yr dream was about being

free & whole; about discovering one’s true

identity; about refusing to be turned around

or away, steadfastly adhering to life, love

& freedom as interchangeable elements of

righteousness. spirit has acted, martin, in

& through yr life. has impregnated yr dream;

bestowed its most wondrous gift to a confused

& oppressed humanity – that divine spark

which arouses, animates & sustains; the

honey'd taste of freedom!

© Joseph McNair; 2009