Shakespeare Park Mass Meeting

By Marcus B. Christian

The sun's last rays were fading in the sky,

And autumn dusk fell filtering through the squares,

Dark, oaken silhouettes were etched nearby

As one loud sound-truck shook the pleasant air.

Like some small dog that shakes a dark, wool ball,

A loud voice rose into a burdened prayer,

In words that seemed to cajole, rise, and fall,

Wailing their miserere of despair.

"Hear us, O lord, we ask this in Thy name

And in the name of this Thy Blessed Son,

Lift up this cloud of wrong and grief and shame,

And let this battle against Greed be won.

O Lord, we falter hard on Calvary --

The cross is heavy, Lord, the way is long --

The crown of thorns has pierced our temples -- See!

Our bare backs bleed beneath the whips of Wrong.

Oppression's spiked heel tears the souls of men:

O God, speak up -- say all is well . . . Amen."

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