For Heather Heyer (1985-2017) Poem by Keith Shorrocks Johnson

THE DAY THEY DROVE THAT SWEET GIRL DOWN


Titus Caine is the name
I was just eighteen when I was slain

In the winter of ‘64
Knocking hard on Nashville's door.

Holding fast for my carbine's aim
When Steedman's troop formed up again.

...

After his time with Robert E. Lee
My brother came back to Tennessee

He raised me up and took the family farm
Or what was left from the brigands' harm

There he sang of Dixie driven down
And regrets that he let the whiskey drown.

...

But we were down and poor and white
Long before the people owners' fight

This could have been a paradise of plenty
A promised land of milk and honey:

It wasn't war that broke the honest heart
But power and greed which tore the land apart

...

Where hate divides and privilege rides high
And skin's the mark of those who live or die

Where twisted history condemns the young
And news is fake or spun or simply wrong

Where the few but rich hold powerful sway
And the many hold their say and then give way.

...

Those who lie and steal will gut the land
And seize their moment with a bloodied hand:

But truth and love are there in black and white
And they will bring the shadows into light

When justice burns a brighter, fiercer flame
And sears each dreadful wrong with shame.

...

From where I lie, I see so clearly who is free
And how the rich raised dupes to swindle me:

I'm not saying that any kind of rage is good
And I would hate to be misunderstood

Take just what you need and leave the rest
And when all's done don't take the very best:

…

Like the day they drove that sweet girl down
The finest that Dixie's ever raised and grown:

The day they killed that sweet girl in the street
Where liberty and decency and death would meet

While people sang that love and truth will set us free
Walking hand in hand in peace and on to victory.