Somebody asked me if I was sad today.
Sad? To see a cotton gin tied around my son
when once I heard an angel sing?
Sad? To see a cotton gin tied around my son
when once I heard an angel sing?
Was I sad? To feel barbed wire knit the neck
of a living thing
fished from the Tallahatchie
of a living thing
fished from the Tallahatchie
my thoughts dry as the gills of a catfish
thrown high in a Huckleberry tree
until my Lord
thrown high in a Huckleberry tree
until my Lord
swooped down to take me
from Chicago to Mississippi.
Was I sad? I felt earth heave
from Chicago to Mississippi.
Was I sad? I felt earth heave
on its axis after a jury of white men
took sixty seven minutes--
"it might have taken less without the soda break--"
took sixty seven minutes--
"it might have taken less without the soda break--"
to knit the devil a pair of wings.
You ask me was I--In 1955 I died with history.
You ask me was I--In 1955 I died with history.
I made them leave that casket open
for all the world to see
how sometimes nothin's
for all the world to see
how sometimes nothin's
left, not even
a bye bye baby,
just a child's initialed ring.
a bye bye baby,
just a child's initialed ring.
First - Dana Littlepage Smith, On The Exhumation of The Body of Emmett Till
(8/2005. Anthology - The White Car, March 2006)
(8/2005. Anthology - The White Car, March 2006)
