When the hills and the mountains someday are made low
And rough places made plain, and untended seeds grow
When the peacocks take flight and the crooked made straight
Until Justice rolls down like an avalanche quake
When the Great become evident and mute become relevant
The New become citizens the few become regiment
When proof becomes eminent, and all the Gold's bright-
Consumed by the bloom and hues of true light
Devalued and weightless reveals its true worth
And Nature, refreshed, conceives its New birth
When the kids on my block can have a true choice
And the armed and afraid stop shooting school boys
When the leaders stand up and refuse to stand down
When the children man-up and my Sisters man-down
When the Sunsets are East instead of West-bound
When the greedy and proud repent with head down
Til the day every poison and venom tastes sweet
We can claim our restraints no more and break free
When the Dream of one King becomes true as plain sight
That’s the day when the poets will no longer write.
P.X
8.8.13
11pm
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A great poem, like it, a great write.