Veterans of the Civil Rights Movement

Poems by Molly Lynn Watt

Dr. King Looked Out
Civil Rights Update
Ballad of Jimmie Lee Jackson

DR. KING LOOKED OUT
Sun to the tune of "Joe Hill" by Earl Robinson
words Molly Lynn Watt

I clicked the TV on last night
Dr. King looked out at me
I have a dream, we will live free
And we can make it be
And we can make it be
We walked, we would not ride the bus Montgomery '55
Our feet were tired, our souls alive
Striding side by side
Striding side by side
In Nashville students just sat down
To order lunch one day
No one waited on them, so
They sat day after day
They sat day after day
In Birmingham we filled the streets
With a thousand children's feet
When they were carted off to jail
More children kept the beat
More children kept the beat
In '63 we had a dream
That we could all live free
We marched on Washington, DC
For all the world to see
For all the world to see
In '64 we hoped for more
And thousands volunteered
Taught Freedom Schools,
turned out the vote
Together persevered
Together persevered
We were not stopped by death
nor fright
In Selma '65
Clergy joined our freedom march
To gain full voting rights
To gain full voting rights
By '65 we had legal rights
But life wasn't full and good
We took on northern city blight
For housing, jobs and schools
For housing jobs and schools
Women roared for equal rights
We opposed the Vietnam War
Poor People pitched tents on the mall
We dreamed large dreams for all
We dreamed large dreams for all
Now dreams aren't cast
in bronze or stone
And fifty years are gone
The only way a dream can live
Is when hearts take it on
Is when hearts take it on
So will you join us in the dream
For full equality
Turn off the TV, stand and sing
All people shall live free
All people shall live free
Coda: a chant of hope to refrain tune
Our hearts will take it on
And we can make it be
Striding side by side
We will persevere
For all the world to see
All people shall live free

CIVIL RIGHTS UPDATE

the girl's legs jiggle in skin-tight jeans
as she leans into the mirror
extends her lashes with mascara
adjusts a third earring
plugs in an iPod and
flounces off in a wake
of lavender and attitude
it is almost impossible for her to recall
stories of her grandmother at the same age
wearing a dress, and nylons held by a garter belt
walking dusty roads in Tennessee
inviting tenant farmers
in drought-dried cotton fields
to risk eviction by registering to vote
the girl, really a young woman
studied the example of Dr. King
starred in the play of Rosa Parks
she's steeped in the language of rights
argues with parents to extend her curfew
sends text messages to her friends
posts her hopes on MySpace
she imagines herself a singer
doctor, engineer, poet
cwindow shopping life
as if walking the aisles of T.J. Maxx
for a ready-made fit off the rack
until she becomes bored and will try on
another way to make a difference
she's serious about making a difference
but has not walked with the rhythmic feet of protest
is unaware of the care activists used in dressing
men with Brylcreem in their dos
shined shoes, ironed shirts
chose clip-on ties
ties that unclipped when gripped
they kept their eyes on the prize
picking-off big-picture fights
bus boycotts, freedom rides, lunch counter sit-ins
marched for jobs, votes, schools
always singing songs to freedom's beat
they moved like an heirloom pocket watch
each a gear meshing to move time along
this girl owns her civil rights
but cannot imagine her vote will count
she does not know she is living the dream
but must keep dreaming it
or the movement will stop
like her grandfather's clock
Jim Crow still tramps the streets

THE BALLAD OF JIMMIE LEE JACKSON
To all who marched from Selma to Montgomery in 1965 and every year since.

one winter night Jimmie Lee Jackson
with five hundred sisters and brothers
marched down the road singing of freedom
craving the vote the court denied them
one hundred years after emancipation
Alabama's sons and daughters of slaves
    cotton pickers    sharecroppers by trade
    harassed    blocked    lynched
    trying to register to vote
officers lined the street for protection
someone shot out all the streetlights
plunged the town into dark confusion
sheriff deputies and state troopers
kicked at random and beat on folks
with locally made mahogany bats
    special-ordered    extra-long
    special-ordered    ball-bearing tips
    special-ordered    to stop freedom
Jimmie Lee fled with his mother Viola
hid under a table at Mack's Cafi
his grandfather Cager stumbled in
troopers pursued wrestled him down
Jimmie rushed to defend slammed away
a pistol was jammed into Jimmie Lee's stomach
    point-blank shots    blood flooded the floor
    Jimmie fled    collapsed by the bus-stop
    friends got him to Selma in time to die
Jimmie Lee Jackson an American hero
a Vietnam Vet a church deacon
murdered at 26 for trying to vote
the fate of this fighter who fought twice for freedom
wasn't broadcast throughout the nation
just wailed across the black belt of poverty
    the black community was sick from waiting
    the black community began to rumble
    the black community was ready to boil
movement leaders feared a riot
tried to focus the nation on the plight
of backs in a nonviolent struggle for voting rights
they hauled Jimmie onto a mule drawn wagon
pulled his body through miles of poverty
tramped beside him through acres of cotton
    this time the nation carried the news
    the march    the people weeping behind the casket
    a hero murdered    democracy failing
it took one Bloody Sunday of bashed skulls jailings
Dr King's call to clergy from every region
thousands swarmed to Selma to join the march
two more martyrs northerners white
Viola Liuzzo and Reverend Jim Reeb
three marches started just one got through
before the nation began to squirm
before the tide began to turn
for 80-year old Cager to cast a vote