I have met them, as the sun set,
Coming along down the highway
From Memphis to Las Angeles;
Ordinary well-meaning people,
Who pass by with meaningless nods,
And I have engaged them in talk
Under the last embers of day,
As one sometimes and often does
When strolling out on evening walks.
When out today something was wrong
The polite and meaningless nods,
Now turned into parties and lines drawn,
And I have known them, close as mom,
And closer still as a loved one–
And known them all, their hopes and wants.
And we have known this all along,
The Germans marched right into hell
On a better say nothing way,
And then a wall went up in East Germany.
Why is it that good people go
Willing into the darkest of hate?
The Poetry Of J.P. 