There was a night when Ann Feeney
was singing an inflammatory song
and I couldn’t bring myself to sing along.
It was just like the trumpets were blowing
and I decided to walk right out the door.
It was in the mainstream of the movement,
after Bill Clinton called. To give our energies
and intelligence where injustice was being
carried on. Would I sometimes have the
courage to raise my voice? Does the Harley
travel with his throat up the street?
I have watched and marched with many
who don’t disavow the past. And it is
the present we live in and have to change.
Frank Correnti is an old-timer who has long been a fan of the Merton Center.
Categories: Literature, Poetry