Elegy for Jesse Jackson

When hope walked among us, it bore your name—

a clarion call in the clamor of injustice,

a voice unbowed by fear or doubt.

From the Southern sun‑beaten streets

where young feet first marched for a right denied,

to the halls of power where you cried, “Keep hope alive!”—

you carried the weary on wings of resolve.

You stood at history’s broken edges,

where sorrow met the dawn of change—

and where another dream, Dr. King’s, was cut short,

you rose to guide its flicker into flame.

You gave shape to the unspoken dignity

of every soul told they were less,

and taught the world that to say “I am Somebody”

was to claim a place in the song of freedom.

In Chicago’s windswept corners,

in rallies that rippled across oceans,

in votes cast and voices lifted—

your life became an unending sermon:

that justice is not a quiet thing,

that equality demands our marching feet,

and that love, steadfast and resolute,

can bend the arc of a reluctant world.

A servant leader, your family said—

not only to kin at your hearth,

but to the oppressed, the voiceless, the overlooked—

and in that name, you shared yourself with all.

Now, having walked past the final door,

your echo stays with us—

a charge to shoulder what remains undone,

a testament to courage that refuses to yield.

Rest, Jesse Jackson—

your voice now a guiding star

in the collective night.

May those who follow your path

keep hope alive,

and in doing so, honor your unquenchable flame.