Friday, July 3rd, 2015

luna_virgo: (Boots)
(This poem is inspired by recent events and contains the uncensored n-word. I think it's pretty clear in context that I'm quoting and that I take a very harsh view of racism.)


How to sum it up simply,
the South? I can't.
It's neither the barefoot
cracker stereotype nor
the glorious rebellion
with mint juleps and happy slaves
that never existed.
It's heritage AND hate.
It's front porch swings
and bodies swinging in trees.
It's blackeyed peas and fried okra
from Africa, just like the cooks.
It's hearing my great-uncle
say the blessing at dinner and
then talk about "that nice
old nigger lady at the market".
(He thinks this is a compliment.)
It's two worlds side by side,
intertwined but never shared.
It's change that moves
as slow as the summer air.

That flag is what our ancestors
fought and died for, states' rights
and freedom from tyranny.
That flag is what was waved
in the faces of descendants
of our own tyranny,
our own aggression.
It's our history, our pride.
It's our defeat and our shame.
It's happy Dixieland memories
and white-robed cross-burning terror.
It's our blood-soaked history
come home to roost, and
like good Southerners we will
fry it up and eat it.

September 2016

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