Summer 1970 – 13 – On a dare

“It’s not true.”
“Yes it is.”
“Prove it.”

White hoods
White cloaks
Hiding hoodlums

Reel to reel
Blaring
Hatred

Like Horror Night
At the Drive In
Movies

Cross burning
In the darkness

We run home
Shaking

Terror mixed with
The complacency of
Being white.

Were we children hooded too?
Were we all?

Telling the story of the night
Doing little, if anything
To change it.

JEHW
May 27, 2014

Yesterday morning the rough draft of this poem came to me. By noon, I learned that Maya Angelou had died. Last evening my poetry grouped helped me to refine it. The passing of her spirit clearly unlocked something in my heart, and that of my fellow poets. I dedicate this poem to her memory.