I Have a Dream

Alveda King, the niece of Martin Luther King, Jr., has carried his vision of equality for preborn children. Last year in Washington, DC, she enlightened me how we are mistreating the alien we are not to mistreat when we allow illegal immigration, as it is a form of slavery.

I'm most intrigued by her uncle's "Letter from Burmingham Jail". The arguments he addresses in his letter are the same we hear today from those apathetic to the plight of the preborn child. It is where his famous quote originated that is etched into the stone of the Colorado Supreme Court: "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."

The letter begins:

"While confined here in the Birmingham city jail, I came across your recent statement calling my present activities 'unwise and untimely."

Within the letter he states:

"For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant 'Never." We must come to see ... that "justice too long delayed is justice denied."

He continues:

"I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is ... the ... moderate .... who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods..."; who paternalistically believes he can set a timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season."

Further in the letter he writes:

"Such an attitude stems from a tragic misconception of time, from the strangely rational notion that there is something in the very flow of time that will inevitably cure all ills. Actually, time itself is neutral; it can be used either destructively or constructively. More and more I feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than have the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people. Human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability; it comes through the tireless efforts of men willing to be co-workers with God, and without this 'hard work', time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation. We must use time creatively, in the knowledge that the time is always ripe to do right."

Since his letter, the arguments against equality have not changed. For the preborn, "it's not the right time" is the argument I hear most often when all other arguments of the child's humanity, abortion's cruelty, and the methods and strategy are exhausted. To which only one question remains, "When is the right time?" After another generation is lost? When the next child screams into our collective consciousness like a ghost of Christmas Future?

For the little ones who will die on our watch if we do nothing - if by our nothingness, we allow their murders to continue - it would be the perfect time to intersect the natural progression of the depravity of man with compassionate motivation and tireless effort. To step between the executioner and his victims. To stop ourselves from sinking and sliding further and further downstream into the abyss of judgement, devoid of any self-respect or reason, by grabbing hold of that ancient anchor of Truth to hold us against the tide sinking beneath us that would take us with it. Resisting the quicksand of culture which cannot right itself, we hold with every sinew that immovable resolve to stand. When all else fails, to continue standing. And in our standing to utter, even at times in a whisper and at times loudly enough to be heard, what our tiny brothers and sisters would say if given voice to save them.

When is the right time to proclaim from the pulpits, from the sidewalks, from the grocery stores, and across America's kitchen tables the plight of our youngest brothers and sisters, the least of these that separates the sheep from the goats? The cries of infants with hardly enough oxygen in lungs to squeak as they are crushed to leave this earth as they are mutilated, as they are pulled arm from leg, heart from chest, and brain from spinal column, as if we can afford fewer brains and fewer dreams and lesser hope. Only caring for ourselves in the current circumstance, we cannot dream beyond this moment into theirs. We cannot envision their future that God would give them. The joy and accomplishment awaiting their parents when overcoming odds to give them birth. The stories of invention, cures, and challenges untold. Only our own cruelty remains in some kind of misogynistic ritual that deprives both womanhood and motherhood in one agonizing moan where repression is praised as empowerment, and liberation comes at the price of enslavement.

"Is it the right time," is the question trained into every social worker and woven within the fabric of every parent who reads a positive pregnancy test to cause doubt, to entertain the temptation of another time for the parent that this child will never have. And it is the question before every politician who puts their finger in the air to see which way the breeze is blowing, the polls are leaning, to see how many children he or she is willing to sacrifice for their political posturing and career, sacrificing upon the alter of themselves the children who will never have a voice, never have a breath, never feel the warmth of love or of the sun upon their cheek.

I have a dream.

When children are no longer categorized by their sexuality,

Where immorality is not assumed in the drugs we take,

And children are not disposed of in yellow plastic

Because they would be pink when blue was desired

And men will not be allowed in women's locker rooms

And men will not be allowed to invade a woman's body

To take from her the precious blessing God Almighty wanted to give her.

Where women will not sit alone in bathrooms bleeding to death

With their children whose own blood is often spilt on the alters of

reputation, economy, and convenience of time.

I have a dream today.

Where from Florida to California, New York to Washington, and across

the great plains of Kansas and Colorado, and in every household

There declares a trust in Providence for the children He gives

And the children only He is qualified to take away.

Where we no longer treat our children as disposable waste,

as inconveniences to be planned, but rather surprises that kiss us

with destiny like a rainbow in a storm, love that finds us, and a future

that embraces us.

I have a dream.

Where children are valued and not treated like property

to be disputed between arguing parents and the state

But cherished and worth staying together and creating family

And as Americans, we no longer kill our own inheritance and legacy,

The citizens that would take care of us when elderly.

I have a dream.

That this holocaustal nightmare end. And life and love embrace

Those less fortunate than ourselves to have already been born

To be kissed by the angels of light and promise and become our better selves

by embracing them. By learning to share our world with them.

To care to get to know them.