(poems go here) On December 1st 1955,
Rosa Parks sat in the middle of a Storm,
And refused to move.
It was a Storm that had been covering America for decades,
Raining down malice,
Letting it pool in the minds of people,
Corrupting them,
Their eyes,
Their ears,
Their very perception of life.

But The Storm wasn’t completely opaque.
And people like Rosa saw that.
People like her perceived a break in the maelstrom.
A calm place where peace and equality could exist.
But it would not be easy. Nothing this important ever is.

Others joined her cause,
Men and Women with Dreams.
Dreams of a break in The Storm.
Some even believed it would completely evaporate.
Leaving nothing but rays of understanding and integration.

That was fifty three years ago.
And The Storm is not nearly as powerful as it was before.
But it still exists.
It whispers down the back alleys of human minds,
Still inflicting fear and hatred wherever its tendrils can reach.
Our Dream has not yet become a reality.
But we are close.
So very close indeed.