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The Book of Judges
It was 1857, civil tension on the rise,
And the dialogue on servitude found little compromise.
Justice Taney cited precedent in making his decree:
“A slave is not a citizen; it’s private property.”
Nine old white men in a smelly, smoke-filled room;
Nine old white men won’t be granting freedom soon.
It happened end of century, in 1896,
When Plessey versus Ferguson administered the fix.
Majority opinion took a Jim Crow frame of mind,
John Harlan’s lone dissent implored, “We must be color blind!”
Nine old white men reckoned Jesus on their side.
Nine old white men ruled which railroad car you’d ride.
The end of war meant ’54 might promise better days.
With "I like Ike" and Howdy Doody masking our malaise.
The case came from Topeka; Warren took the Court to school.
Unanimous opinion would uphold the Golden Rule.
Nine old white men long delivered of their youth,
Searched their souls and found a universal truth.
Nine old white men not afraid to make a change
In the land of the free and the home of the strange.
The arc that bends toward Justice
May be daunting and prolonged,
But tends to sooth the progeny
Of those who have been wronged.
Copyright ©
Michael Kalavik
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