Some pray for quiet in Ferguson, but I pray
that the heart that howls at injustice,
the heart of our nation
will beat louder than any truncheon.

I pray for the police
whose nightly dreams of justice are interrupted by gunfire,
I pray for the mothers of children
spat on by our education funding system.
I pray for the fine young black men
who battle on towards a hard-won, always threatened respectability,
I pray for the angry young black men,
shirtless, pants sagging low,
who makes sense of this world that wants them to disappear.

Peace in America is an expensive prospect.
Tombs are quiet, and cheap.
Let’s all make enough noise
to wake the dead.