THEY COME
Now, through a vapor trail that arcs across a void of five hundred years, catching a glint of morning sun in glistening eyes, set in black faces, bowed oer dark hands, cupping white cotton,
They come!
Wearied by darkened nights of abject despair, and buoyed by inner strengths that connect with those who spawned them in the land of paradise,
They come!
eternally frozen in the frightened tears of all who were forced to board vessels of hades, never more to gaze on faces of love, to look on shores of home
They come!
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SEE THEM!
Look! See them! Marvelous are they, coming up against odds never endured in all of humanity, resplendent in their pride, descended from no culture, yet, bound by a culture forged of unyielding determination.
See your people, Medensan child!
See them, strong under harsh burdens, striding now to that unity where freedom rests and suffers no visitors save the lovers of togetherness. Never again will they wonder, for today they have dressed themselves in a new name, Medensan.
Strolling now in the vales where ethnicity holds forth and chases all but the paragons of brotherhood, they will never again roam nor wander “from the place, oh God, where we first met thee."1 Today, your people have clothed themselves in a new identity, crowned their new
1 Langston Hughes: Lift Every Voice and Sing
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