“From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”
–William Shakespeare (Prologue to Romeo and Juliet)
I was hewn from the helpless limbs of a tree
Which could have grown
To become something magnificent
Through sanding and carving
Through varnishing and the work of human hands
I was formed
In a way, the tree which was mutilated to give me life
Was a foreshadowing of my truncheon fate
I swing through the air once again
A weapon in the hands of a vehement oppressor
Skin splits
Blood sprays
Bone shatters
Bodies litter the dust
Staining the earth with crimson testament
To the cruelty I have wrought
Some of the figures are marred
Reminiscent of the tree from which I was hewn
Which died to give me life
The dark throng of protestors
Are but mortals
Faced by the immortal power
Of those lighter beings
Who wield me, mercilessly
I wish to weep
For the destruction, pain
Anguish I leave in my wake
I wish I was still a living bough
Capable of shedding resin tears
Capable of yielding to greater forces
Not to force the vulnerable to break
But I cannot weep
I cannot yield
I am a baton
A weapon in the hands of those who swore to protect
Yet scythe down those who rise to protect what is rightfully theirs
Ancient grudge of black and white
Break to new mutiny of segregation
Where civil blood of those who seek protection
Makes civil hands who swore to guard them
Unclean.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC
“From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”
–William Shakespeare (Prologue to Romeo and Juliet)
I was hewn from the helpless limbs of a tree
Which could have grown
To become something magnificent
Through sanding and carving
Through varnishing and the work of human hands
I was formed
In a way, the tree which was mutilated to give me life
Was a foreshadowing of my truncheon fate
I swing through the air once again
A weapon in the hands of a vehement oppressor
Skin splits
Blood sprays
Bone shatters
Bodies litter the dust
Staining the earth with crimson testament
To the cruelty I have wrought
Some of the figures are marred
Reminiscent of the tree from which I was hewn
Which died to give me life
The dark throng of protestors
Are but mortals
Faced by the immortal power
Of those lighter beings
Who wield me, mercilessly
I wish to weep
For the destruction, pain
Anguish I leave in my wake
I wish I was still a living bough
Capable of shedding resin tears
Capable of yielding to greater forces
Not to force the vulnerable to break
But I cannot weep
I cannot yield
I am a baton
A weapon in the hands of those who swore to protect
Yet scythe down those who rise to protect what is rightfully theirs
Ancient grudge of black and white
Break to new mutiny of segregation
Where civil blood of those who seek protection
Makes civil hands who swore to guard them
Unclean.
In June 1959, the inhabitants of Cato Manor protested the forced removals of the time. The police were sent in and the protests turned violent.