4 April 1968.
6:01 p.m. Pop. Pop. Pop.
Smoke rings fill the air in front of the face.
A man drops to the ground. A man runs through a door. A man falls of a heart attack.
The ambulance lights give the night a red strobe.
Everything moves in slow-mo.
Mourning. Weeping. Wailing.
Anger. Hatred. Fear.
A call for calm. A call for peace.
A call to “tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world.”
A call to remember in the darkness is where we dream.
In the darkness we see the stars. The promise of light.
In the darkness we have the pillar of fire. The promise of light.
From the mountain top. In the darkness. The promise of light.
The promise of light. The hope for light.
The darkness is beginning to be broken by the dawn of the new day.
We continue to walk toward the breaking sun.
We walk from the dark to the light.
It is a long walk.
We must not be afraid.
We walk. We fall. We get up. We walk.
To the light.
To the promised land.
We walk hand in hand.
Precious Lord, Take my Hand.