Look around
Past row houses in Ferguson Missouri
Down the long antebellum rows of cotton
Look
Beyond the police line; the race line
The scarred line
Jagged across Old Glory’s tattered furls
Look how it connects the money, the congressmen, the cops
And smell it … can you smell it?
The smoke, the tear gas, the rage
Ferguson is burning
Across the years, Atlanta is burning
Resentment still settling
Like soot on sons of the south
Listen
Deep down in your soul
Listen
Your granddads Klan is tryin’ to be heard
“Lose your job? … The colored man took it”
“High taxes? … Shiftless welfare bums”
“Angry? Afraid? … White privilege my ass!”
Now
Do you feel it?
Drumbeats pulsing in your brain
Feel it
A familiar tune
Faintly rising to the pounding beat
Hum it with me … Sing it with me
This is our song
“Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton …”
No comments:
Post a Comment