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JOHN ROBERT LEWIS
He was pinned
to his past.
The way mother pins a child's
address onto a coat.
Or an exile carries a suitcase,
for his elderly father.
This not much else to do,
but grasp the obligation.
So when he came to Pettus Bridge,
blocked by policemen with raised batons, his past thrust him.
Pushed him forward into the bloody sticks.
Cast him like Jonah into the whale.
He had a message to send Nineveh.
Nothing was going to keep him back.
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