There are moments when history doesn’t sit quietly in a book—it stands up, speaks back, and sings. That was the feeling inside Kent State as Prester Pickett of Cleveland State University took the stage for From the Haunted Oak: An Evening of Drama, Gospel Music and Poetry Celebrating the Life and Legacy of the Right Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., presented by the Department of Africana Studies. The room went still the moment Prester began to speak. His voice—measured, reverent, thunderous when needed—carried an uncanny resonance of Dr. King himself. Not imitation, but invocation. You could hear the struggle of the people in every pause.

Drawing from King’s most searing speeches, Pickett guided the audience through the moral arc of the movement. From the Lincoln Memorial, where King reminded America that “now is the time to make real the promises of democracy,” to Birmingham, where King spoke of police dogs and fire hoses turned on children, exposing the cruelty of injustice to the world. He moved through “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop,” King’s final prophetic address, echoing the line that still chills history: “I’ve seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you…”—and then pivoted to King’s often-overlooked critiques of economic injustice, militarism, and corporate greed, themes King raised powerfully in his later speeches and sermons.

Then came Bertha Pickett, and the evening lifted into song. She didn’t just sing—she gave testimony. Her gospel selections were rich, full-bodied, and joyful, carrying sorrow and hope in equal measure. The audience responded instinctively, engaging in call-and-response, an African tradition older than the nation itself. Voices rose together, clapping in rhythm, blurring the line between performer and community. When Prester and Bertha sang together, it felt less like a performance and more like a communal prayer.

The night deepened as Dr. Mwatabu S. Okantah, Acting Chair of Africana Studies, took up the drums, grounding the space in ancestral rhythm, while Vince Robinson wove piano and poetry together with precision and grace. Their reflections illuminated not just King’s triumphs, but his trials—his isolation, his doubts, his insistence that love must remain central even when power corrupts. Okantah shared candidly, “I never wanted to be an insider—and now that I have a foot in the door… it’s exactly like I thought it would be,” naming a system driven by distrust and corporate greed without love for the people. Yet his message did not end in despair. It was a charge.

The evening closed as gently as it opened. Okantah sang his favorite song, soft but resolute, and ended with a simple, radical benediction: “Love. Love. Love.” Three times, as if to insist we hear it, remember it, and live it. The audience rose not just applauding, but changed—reminded that Dr. King’s legacy is not finished business. It is a living call. And for one powerful night at Kent State, that call was answered.