On Thursday, in a sea of cardboard signs broadcasting messages of hope and frustration down Centre Street in Jamaica Plain, Marion Cunningham’s hand-scrawled poster stood out — on it she had written the entirety of poet and social activist Langston Hughes’ Harlem:

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up

like a raisin in the sun?

Or fester like a sore —

And then run?

Does it stink like rotten meat?

Or crust and sugar over —

like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags

like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

“The quote is a reminder that this is an ongoing issue,” Cunningham said, standing beside more than 1,000 other protesters at a vigil in support of Black Lives Matter Thursday evening. “I guess the real question is, will this be different? And I don't know that it will, actually. Because we've seen it before, and before, and before, and we still have to remind people that black lives matter. It takes a death for people to think about how they matter, but they don't think about how they're not being educated, black people are not being housed, black people are not being fed. Our lives matter every day, and people don't seem to connect with that. I'm just hoping that my hope is greater than my cynicism.”

For organizer Penny Wells, this moment feels different, and more hopeful, than the protests of years before, and she would know — the group has been meeting monthly since December of 2015. The event normally features a guest speaker and around 30-50 attendees, but on Thursday, after a full week of protests in Boston and around the country following the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis, thousands spilled out into Centre Street, stretching for blocks along the sidewalks to attend the group’s 53rd vigil.

Wells said she welcomes the newcomers.

“I'm always getting educated. I'm always learning, and I think that's the key, because when people start to learn and read, they see that it's appalling, and I think that motivates you to actually speak up,” Wells said. “I hope that one of the outcomes of this is that people continue to stay engaged. People need to get educated, they need to get engaged, and they need to support the black organizations that are already doing some of the most important work on the ground.”

Many protesters, including Dorchester resident Arianna Davis, have begun to ask what comes next, after protests filling the streets come to an end.

“We want things to change,” she said. “We don't want to just be out here doing this for no reason. The support is beautiful and great and everything, but what's going to come of it? That's the anxiety that we have."

Standing beside a small table filled with voter registration forms and a city census pulled up on a laptop, Jamaica Plain native Dakota Jones recruited people from the crowd to come fill out forms and sign petitions. “I feel like I have aired my grievances and been so overwhelmed by my emotions that now, I’m ready for action,” he said. “I don't have the answers. But for those of us who want to try to take the next steps or start thinking about how we can achieve the world that we’re idealistic about, this feels like a very tangible first step.”

Protesters took a knee and stood with bowed heads in silence while the bells of First Church rang through the air, and police hung back while organizers corralled protesters to either side of Centre street to let cars pass. Finally, a few young black activists from local advocacy organization Black Boston 2020 led the crowd down Centre street and into a more residential area, where residents watched from their doorways and held up “Black Lives Matter” signs in their doorways. On Seaverns Ave, Jamaica Plain residents Bob and Betty Freeman stood on their stoop with stoic faces, holding closed fists in the air.

Marcel Smith walked alongside the march, holding his one year-old daughter Millions in the crook of his arm.

The Roxbury resident said he’s been to marches every day in Boston, and some in Chicago before that, in an effort to set an example for his two sons and three daughters.

“The two oldest are boys, and their generation is just amazing. They come home talking about subjects, policies and things that — you know, I was just trying to play basketball when I was their age,” he said. “I feel as though this generation can really take hold, change some things up and push it forward in a positive manner.”

The group stopped marching at the intersection of Glen and Washington streets for a silent “die-in,” laying on the ground with hands held behind their backs, as Boston police officers on foot and on bicycles looked on.

Finally, activists stood up in the center of the group, leaving the crowd with a final word before the group dispersed without conflict.

“It's not white people against black people, it's not us against a certain group, it's us against racism,” protester Matt Balinda said. “Each individual one of you has power, you have the power to influence one other person. That one person will lead to another person, and that person will lead to 1,000 people. This is a long way to go. The civil rights movement started in the 1960's, and we are still marching for this.”

Balinda and other activists urged the crowd to register to vote, contact their elected officials and use their influence to spread the message on social media platforms.

"It doesn't matter if you're black, white Latino, Latina, trans, gay, lesbian... you're human, right? Let me tell you something," Balinda said, his voice rising with applause from the crowd. "We're not here to start a race war, we're here to end it."