A baby cries in Harlem:

his mother, mournful, sighs

for she knows he’ll keep on crying

until the day he dies.

A child cries in Memphis:

her teacher asks her why.

“I wish that I was light skinned,

blonde-haired and blue-eyed.”

A man cries in Montgomery:

nobody wonders why.

It’s such a common sight there

that no one bats an eye.

A woman cries in Selma,

not expecting a reply.

She knows she’ll never see the day

when someone hears her cry.

A young man cries in Birmingham,

a different kind of cry:

a cry that calls for freedom

and demands a reply.

He marches through the city,

A twinkle in his eye:

He might not end the heartache,
but he’s still gonna try.