Until he came

Until he came,  it was a world divided

And walls shot up

Rising out of the ground like tombstones

Askew, errant, graying, fractured tombstones

Forgotten markers of long lost lives

Dividing the living

Black

White

White

Black

Separate and unequal

One denied protection under the law

The other acquiescing

Then he came

He, with his soft, cherubic face

Determined sloe eyes
Velvety, ebony eyes

His lingering, languid, words remained long after he departed, like some sweet,
intoxicating perfume

He marched

In his well-cut suit

He crossed the bridge, arm and arm with the awakening multitudes

Young, old, women, men

They would no longer sit silent

They followed his rhythmic, constant, poetic voice

A lullaby of reason, right, humanism.

They marched

Year after year

He spoke and the heavens listened

The heavens listened

And he was answered

The nation, the world, turned and saw his vision

He came

He was ours

Then his message, his words spoke for him

And we are his children, his gifts

UNTIL HE CAME first appeared in brooklyn.voice.com.

About the Author
Elaine Rosenberg Miller writes fiction and non-fiction. Her work has appeared in numerous print publications and online sites, domestically and abroad, including JUDISCHE RUNDSCHAU, THE BANGALORE REVIEW, THE FORWARD, THE HUFFINGTON POST and THE JEWISH PRESS. Her book. FISHING IN THE INTERCOASTAL AND OTHER SHORT STORIES will be published by Adelaide Books in 2019.
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