Member-only story
Plow On
Honor the Rose refusing chains;
She goes against the Winter’s grain.
Montgomery’s fight for equal rights
Rests upon her weary feet.
Honor the young and valiant Nine
Refusing to wither on the vine
So Black can integrate with White.
(They turn o’er earth, feat by feat.)
There’s a roarin’ in the fields
From the brines to the hills.
Oh, Little Roses brace for storms
And must, and must, and must…plow on.
March little children! Keep marching tall!
Raze the bombs, crush the walls
O’er the bridge where freedom waits
For us to come, for us to leap.
Listen, Time! Our skins don’t change.
Death-Untimely — our skins, it claims:
Descendants’ blood on malice-streets.
Hear the souls of Mamas’ weep.
…Brittle voices! Bitter world!
…Bitter voices! Brittle world!
…Color it peace, redress the stains.
…Remember the fight, the move for change.
…The move for change.
…The move for change.
…The move for change.
…The move for change.
Be it then, be it now
Hate! still brews beneath the bough;
Yet our will is thick as bone.
We must, we must, we must…plow on.
