When Dr. Martin Luther King was killed my first thought was that the African Americans had lost their Moses. Then as my thoughts began to clear I realized all of us had lost our Moses. Then as my heart began to break, I realized I had lost my Moses. Who would lead me through the seeming-less inborn prejudice carried over from my childhood? Who would skin my eyes so I could see the beauty of a remarkable people and culture? When will I ever hear words with the same power as the “I have a dream” speech?

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