Untitled Poem of the Metal Man
Looking at the statue of Meredith
The fourth of July, two-thousand-and-eight
University of Mississippi
Meredith's metal leg is put forward
The black man is ready to make a move
Bold, strange, motionless; there he stays tonight
Maybe he'll move soon, creep an inch closer
While "Fight the good fight" is cheered all around
The prophets and priests together cry, "Peace"
But they lie through their teeth with rich white smiles
The black man hasn't made it through the gate
All day he bakes in the fire of the sun
Like his fathers and mothers, hard at work
They bought him his freedom with sweat and blood
And he'd have it, he'd take it; so close now
But he can't move forward, doesn't know how
Would that the Lord make his metal legs flesh
For only he, none beside, can set free
The man whose bound to fail, bound to failure
Who of us would teach a statue to walk?
If we push him through, we will break his legs:
What if he's better off whole where he stands
Than over there with no means of freedom?
On the other side of of Opportunity
There is Dependence, a lame community
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