An Old Tune, An Old Song
The Far Right tear bandages
Off racial wounds
With talk about food stamps;
Like their ancestors,
They see no good in us,
Even though our people toiled
For two and half centuries
Without recompense.
They rip these bandages off
Knowing full well they resonate
With the klans.
Still we squared our shoulders
And hold our heads high
For it's an old tune,
An old song.
poem by Buxton Shippy
Added by Poetry Lover
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