Memories of a Faded Rose

Remembering the life and legacy of Rosa Parks

She wouldn’t budge when on a bus
a white man said “My seat!”
She bravely sat and stood her ground
like wind-blown Kansas wheat.

It was a bus ride that began
a journey not yet done.
A trip toward equality
where blacks and whites are one.

No, a Rosa by any other name
would not smell as sweet.
Her very name was
the fragrance of freedom
to many a little girl (and boy)
who grew up in the contaminated
soil of the South
with hopes of a better life
and dreams of being as courageous
as Ms. Parks.
No, Rosa was not your garden-variety
kind of woman.
She was a rare specimen.
Though her life was marked by thorns
that stemmed from ugly prejudice,
Rosa bloomed with beauty.
Her solitary act of defiance
became a delightful bouquet of justice.

And as her shriveled lifeless frame
is laid to rest today,
may memories of this faded rose
inspire us I pray.