Bloody SundayA Poem by Bob BFor what occurred on March 7, There was truly no excuse. Although the day started out calmly, Before long all hell broke loose.
The year: 1965. Selma, Alabama: the place. Six hundred marchers for freedom And state troopers stood face to face.
The goal of the marchers was a demand For equal rights in the voting booth, For the tight grip of Jim Crow laws In America was an ugly truth.
The plan: a peaceful march from Selma To the Alabama capital, where They would take their grievances To the governor. What's fair is fair.
Reaching the Edmund Pettus Bridge-- Named, by the way, after a man Who'd been a Confederate general And member of the Ku Klux Klan--
The marchers stopped. The state troopers Told them all to turn around. However, the marchers, one of whom Was John Lewis°, stood their ground.
Soon the state troopers advanced, Wearing gas masks and waving their sticks. They threw some whips and tubing wrapped In barbed wire into the mix.
Men, women, and children were beaten. Blood was flowing; marchers were screaming. Some of white spectators were Holding Confederate flags and beaming.
That evening, while millions were watching Judgment at Nuremberg on TV, The movie was interrupted by scenes Of the brutal assault for all to see.
The day is known as Bloody Sunday-- A day that we should never forget. And yet today the voting rights Of people of color are still under threat.
When we restrict the right to vote, Democracy's up against the wall. No one is free until ALL are free. Equal rights means justice for all.
-by Bob B (3-6-21)
°American politician, statesman, and civil rights activist who served in the U.S. House of Representatives from 1987 until his death in 2020 © 2021 Bob BReviews
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