August of Awakening

I am hunched, ready to be struck by a flying hand When there is yelling, there is pain for my skin color Yet there is none here, No sting, No anger, Just shouts of love that pierce the blue sky The further I walk, The more I cannot feel my feet Elation is the word I sense When I look and see black and white together, For the first time in my life I look where everyone else is, Looking for a man dressed in black, manning a podium Yet I do not see, only hear The words turn my skin to gooseflesh, I throw my hands toward the sun And start to cry Never have I heard those words spoken before Never have I seen those races in harmony Never have I felt this loved, Appreciated, and connected This is my family, Never will I allow my memory to discard The words spoken, Emotions felt, And brotherhood experienced On August 28, 1963