It is time.
The tocsin clangs and I wonder if we will answer.
rise for those who cannot stand,
speak for those unable to speak,
shout for those too frightened to be noticed?
beg for the destitute,
chastise the greedy?
offer comfort for the homeless,
solace to the fearful,
kneel for the abandoned child?
help lift downcast eyes riveted
motionless in the shadows
by power that yearns for the past?
Will we be passionate?
Will we be decent?
Will we be true?
It is time,
and for this, I do not wonder:
There, but for the grace of God,
go us all.