You went where angels feared to tread
In bloody Lowndes County
Where speaking in the wrong tone got you dead
And the red clay is red from black man's blood
And white outside agitators like Jon and Viola
Paid with their lives
But the collaboration of those who looked like friends
Musta broke your heart some; they still here
Now hold big office. Sell dope to our kids.
Manipulate the system they once hated.
Don't despair, your seeds still grow
And some flowers bloom
It's not over; some of us really learned some lessons
Those of us gardening keep on watering
Keep on keeping on
Thoughts of you fondly echo in our minds.
Remember the gourd I sent you in Selma.
Hold it in both hands, quietly, eyes closed
And you can feel the vibrations of the seeds sprouting, growing, sowing and the motion you began.
Thank you my brother.
By Annie Mae (6/6/98)