Civil Rights Movement Poetry Archive -

Poems by Peggy Trotter Dammond Preacely

THERE ARE THOSE LIKE JOHN (an ode to John Lewis) [PDF]

She. Her. Hers. (homage to Ruth Bader Ginsberg)
Telling
Bob Moses... One of Us
The Vote
Sherrod! Our spirit leader

SHE. HER. HERS. (Homage to Ruth Bader Ginsberg)

She. Her. Hers.
In lace collar
Ms. Ruth
Brooklyn wordsmith that she was
Told us in no uncertain terms
"a cage is not a pedestal "
She never knew fatigue,
was never sidetracked by defeat.
I dream that in heaven Ms. Fanny Lou Hamer conspires with Ms. Ruth
And oh the raucous that they raise!
Justice Ruth, an energy unparalleled
A clear and persistent vision, courage at every roadblock.
She born in 1933, influenced by the Holocaust
Was bourn to gift us in this new world
With her diaspora destiny
Was larger than her diminutive size.
On her shoulders ... others will continue to stand
Up for this lady of legal brilliance.
Understood by and for the masses: Notorious RBG!
Weight- lifter, direct-gazer, no nonsense-taker
Finding in stare decisis a tool,
But only as it fit her own justice bound intentions.
She our usher, our guide, our scout
Without any doubt
Blazing the trail
Creating a legal template with her life.
"Zedek, zedek, tirdof" — Justice, justice ... did SHE pursue!

TELLING

You tell me
I tell you
We tell each other
Don't be afraid!
He told her
She told him
They told them
It would be alright!
Then the shot came through the window
Heard it fly over and past us and across the room
where we slept low and on the floor on makeshift beds
(just a precaution Mama Dolly had said)
The bullet imbedded in the wall.
I told you it could happen!.
We smelled the dusky smoke of it.
This was real now: Lee County night.
Mama Dolly on the porch.
Her rifle across her knees.
Our nonviolent mantra
so quiet in our mouths.

Copyright © Peggy Trotter Dammond Preacely (1962)
[My poem was written in 1962 when I was teaching voter education for SNCC in rural Southwest Georgia, but I feel it is still so relevant today as we continue to observe the violence and suppression of the right to vote. From my Movement Poem Series]

BOB MOSES... ONE OF US

Lest we forget

We too were once

those children

who listened

and observed our world

and understood that

it needed fixing.

We shook off the privilege of

being New York kids

quieted our Bronx accents

made promises of Mitzvahs

made manifest Luke 12:48...

spoke new visions

with our tongues.

And we turned our eyes Southward

It was 1955

Emmett was our age

We could not look away from the casket

But we looked at each other

Silent in our sorrow

Blazing in our anger

Energy in our sinews.

And we pledged our teenage selves to

Join up,

Go forth,

Go down into the belly of the beasts.

We did not do the college Bid Whist lazy afternoons

Or the Cotillions or the Greek gatherings,

Our gaze was elsewhere

Where we knew we were needed.

We walked away from our classes

put on our overalls

pledged allegiance to the flags of

better tomorrows

that flew into the unknown winds

and carried us by train, and bus and plane

Into unknown territories

where Blacker arms embraced us

us with little explanation,

only communal determination.

And they understood why we had come.

They embraced us... we were welcome.

The movement was us, them...we

That mishmash of us...

Brother- sister- friend ...comrades all.

It was the music of us

The eyes of the people

The stillness of witness

The terror of the nights.

Almost more than our hearts could bear

Seeing sorrows we had only heard of

Amidst the winds that swirled and

Troubled the dusty roads

and brought tense waiting

or tentative smiles on the porches of

ramshackle shot-gun houses

where so magnificently

the people stood up

and stood down the hatred,,,

and proudly walked the miles

to reclaim this Godforsaken

country they themselves had built!
[Remembering Bob Moses, my Harlem childhood friend and SNCC colleague ...on these days of his passing over and beyond....]

The Vote

There it is again
That ancient call to reach forth
To stretch against the tide
To ride the wings of promises
Made In darkness
In the chains that bound us
In the holds of ships
In the cabins of bondage
In the arms of captors
That we would arise
Find ground on which to forever stand
Be the people who
Face harsh winds
Spurn the fear
Ride the rails
Run through forests
Beat the drums
Call the ancestors
Carry one another
Dodge the bullets
Outlast the hatred
Outrun the dogs
Resist the hoses
Endure the jails
Organize the people
With heads high
With hearts intent
To voice a thought
To select a leader
To choose a destiny
To right a wrong
To make our mark
To check the box
To lift a hand
To pull the lever
To mail the ballot
To brave the cold
To sweat the heat
To stand in line
To talk the talk
To walk the walk
To take a stand
find the rainbow
To set the compass
...and just carry on.

Sherrod! Our spirit leader

A soul-force
Son-brother-husband-father-friend
Student-teacher-servant-leader
Listened with his whole self
Caressed the soil
Harnessed the earth
Canvassed the backroads
Permitted the mistakes
Recognized the reluctant
Lifted up the fearful
Gathered a New Tribe
Envisioned The Beloved Community
Shared the victories
Recognized the defeats
Preached into the voids
A Soulful soldier
With a shy smile and a full laugh
Sang with head to the sky
And hand to the plow
Witnessed way too much
Never lost sight of the prize
Listened to all
Never left his post
Persisted beyond the parameters
Pondered all ideas
Insisted upon mutual respect
Modeled how to live
Became a reluctant hero
Praised the Almighty
Ordered his steps
Offered his life.

A tribute poem to my friend and Colleague Charles Sherrod, October 2022. I was a SNCC field worker and literacy teacher in the Southwest Georgia voter tegistration campaign summer of 1962.