April 3, 1968
A poem for the new year in honor of Dr.Martin Luther King, Jr. and some “food for thought” in this “post – empathic” age. In remembrance of Dr. Martin Luther King, I reflected on Dr. King’s last 24 hours on earth; the day before he became immortal. History books don’t teach about the Sanitation men’s strike or what the average person endured when the tsunami of racial-political energy converged on the city of Memphis. Now, back stories and conspiracy theories have made great documentaries and movies. “Some said” Dr. King knew what was coming, that there were foreboding signs of Dr. King’s demise. Others gave various conspiracy theories that rivaled President Kennedy’s. Imagine the constant anticipation of doom that followed him, Dr. King gave his all anyway, having in the back of his mind that at any time… APRIL 3, 1968 Lorraine Welcomed a King and his court with Gideon Bibles in the drawers, ice in the buckets. Highly noted in the Green Book Lorraine made sure they felt welcomed With the sheets folded down (Not over someone’s head) and hermetically sealed soap on the vanity. Lorraine, the quintessential hostess Briefly held him and his dream Gave them respite, even just for one night. Memphis was his mountaintop; He told her he came back having something to prove in a city of two worlds: Proud men as human billboards Reminding narrow minds they, too, are American Facing men with centuries of disdain Group think of poisoned minds Incensed that the “service class” Deserved to be served. Lorraine knows of service: Available all night Guaranteed safe after sundown; Yet, in 24 hours what Lorraine had to do would be more than hanging towels and fluffing pillows. Balcony his perch he stood looking down at his knights making plans for the promised land Sun in his eyes He vowed to return leaving Lorraine his disheveled sheets smothered cigarette in the ashtray dreams scattered across the floor Mulberry Street became the road to the promised land – But for the rest of us the road had a detour. Like Lemmings we veered off the cliff We all fell when his head was pierced by white hot hate speeding through the Cointelpro‘s crosshairs… Right in front of Lorraine. Lorraine Didn’t want the attention or fame Nor the responsibility of cleaning his blood and brains She knew nothing would ever be the same So, she embraced her place in history Kept her Green Book address And changed her name. * (*The Lorraine Motel is now the National Civil Rights Museum; 450 Mulberry Street, Memphis, TN.)