One day Rosa Parks was just too tired br of accepting that's how things are. br Martin Luther King had a prophetic vision br he wouldn't live to see the mountaintop. br br Sweltering heat, poverty, racism and despair br still claim all the breathing space br between the catfish ponds and the cottonfields. br br The blind, the crippled, the poor, and the elderly br bundle up in layers hugging their own warmth br to sleep at night, staring at falling stars br through their cracked and rusty sky. br br Children nibble a moldy potato. br br Abandoned cars, corpulent vultures br loveless dogs walking nowhere br claim these back rural dusty roads. br Raw sewage pours into the open grass. br The sun bakes it all hard and crusty. br br You can clean motel rooms for a dollar each. br Walk four miles to wash a white woman's clothes. br Beg a ride to the grocery store. br br Mothers sing their Baptist prayers. br For your children's sake you stay alive. br br The young people have escaped br rewarded with real jobs, real pay, real benefits br In the cities and way up north. br Their mothers used a switch with loving hands br to help them find their blackbird wings. br br But once they've tasted br respect, human dignity, a life worth living, br they can't go home again. br They can't sleep there. br There's no peace in their souls, br only fear, anger, defiance br and the god damned bloody tears.