John Brown

John Brown's bones are resting,
clean and white,
but others with wounds still open
walk afar at night.

Can't you hear the bare feet shuffling
as each night they go,
dreaming of gates flung open
to truth and rights.

These are the restless dead 
awaiting freedom,
who solemnly march each night  
to where wrath is stored. 

They willingly carry the burden
of shot and sword,
but still continue to hope
for that freeing word
which they have never received.

They fear their lives didn’t matter,
but remain convinced
that every skin, brown or blacker,
should be washed and rinsed,
and dried with the greatest respect,

so that even here  
a  color-blindness will occur,
spreading smiles and kindness.