Black voting has been an inalienable right
Of racists who stand in the doorway of polling
Places to give Black voters bullets
When they ask for ballots.
Land where my fathers died.
Black voters had to take tests asking them
How many jelly beans exactly were in a jar.
White voters always passed, Black voters
Were told they left too many white spaces
Between their answers.
Stand beside her and guide her.
To make sure anyone who holds
Office looks like them, white politicians
Gerrymandered districts in Florida
And Alabama so Black voters could
Vanish at tallying time.
My country 'tis of thee.
Election boards padlocked Black polling
Places early, turned off the lights, pulled
Down the shades.
Through the night with the light from above.
They reduced the number of polling places
To only two county-wide and miles apart
Making it impossible for Black voters
To get to them before or after work.
O beautiful for spacious skies.
Surly white registrars lost
Mail-in ballots or erased Black names
On voter registration lists.
Ghosts can't vote, they declared.
Sweet land of liberty.
A caravan leaves from church
On Sunday morning for the polls
Where Black women and men
Vote to their souls’ content.
In heaven, John Lewis cheers
Them on.
Let freedom ring.
Philip C. Kolin is the Distinguished Professor of English Emeritus and Editor Emeritus of the Southern Quarterly at the University of Southern Mississippi. He has published more than 15 poetry collections, including White Terror, Black Trauma: Resistance Poems about Black History and Evangeliaries.
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