RANDOM JACK POETRY HOUR: HISTORY SERIES
The Ghosts of Tulsa
One hundred years ago
The good white folks of Tulsa Oklahoma
Armed with rifles and handguns
Gasoline and flame
Marched on the Greenwood District
Where the black folks lived and prospered
After two days of rampage and murder
Hundreds lay dead and thousands injured
The district dissolved in charred remains
The headline in the local paper read:
Two Whites Dead in Race Riot
The once booming businesses of
Greenwood no longer existed
The people had no choice but to leave
Nothing remained but fear and terror
To be buried in the deep dark hollows
Of their collective psyche
And the knowledge that this could
Happen to people with darker skin
Anywhere in the land of the free
The survivors moved away
But the spirits of the dead still
Roam those bloodstained streets
Still scream in horror
Still call out to loved ones
Buried in the smoldering rubble
How is it possible for anyone
To live and work and pray on these
Hallowed grounds of shame?
How can people sleep with the cries
Of women and children still
Ringing in the air?
Some crimes cannot be forgotten
Some towns can never atone
Some reparations will never be enough
Sand Creek
Wounded Knee
The Tulsa Massacre
