Heirloom Diamonds

I'm too young to remember most of that:
the marches, Connor's dogs and Little Rock
the noose, the burning cross, the midnight knock
the woman on the bus who simply sat
and wouldn't move, the brave young volunteers
whose bodies lay in Mississippi mud.
My vote was paid for with their guiltless blood
transformed to treasure by the passing years.

They didn't care how long they had to wait:
the old folks queued to vote. I watched them cry
for joy this time, instead of grief or fears
or bitter anger. We drove back the hate
another step this time: and you and I
inherit diamonds in these old men's tears.


Collection available! Knocking from Inside