Soapbox

Purple Fingers

I keep thinking about purple fingers,
on smiling, white-bearded men
and graceful dark-eyed women swathed in veils
all proudly displaying their purple fingers,
the symbol of true liberty,

our promise to them that from now on,
when they want to change the world,
they can do it with their fingers.

In a voice trembling with indignation
a man in a pinstripe suit speaks of liberty
and of his confederate heritage.
He says the Civil War was never about slavery-
and of course, it wasn't, for him.
Virginia, he says, stood tall against government oppression
and refused to kill their kin in South Carolina!
Instead they picked up their guns
and broke the Union and slaughtered their kin
in Delaware and Ohio,
all in the name of freedom,
and I keep hearing the ringing of bells and seeing white hoods
and wondering why no one asks him,
freedom for whom?

He speaks with righteous anger
of the tyranny of our current federal government
and of the atrocities of General Sherman
as if the burning of Atlanta
was Obama's campaign promise to the North.
He points his finger and says that the civil war,
like the American Revolution before it
was just people striving for freedom,
freedom from a government on the wrong path
but I keep thinking about purple fingers,
thinking that this man's blood must run violet by now.
I keep hearing bells,
the ringing of guns and the cracking of bells,
like the one that cracked on the day we promised each other
that from now on,
every American citizen would be born with a purple finger.

This man dismisses slavery
and excuses the secessionist, gun-soaked talk of today,
blames it all on oppression by the government
which we voted for with our fingers.
I keep hearing that bell,
the one that meant we would never again have to use a gun
to change whats wrong
and the sound of a weapon being loaded
And I keep seeing  white hoods,
because they're so close now that they can taste it,
so close to ripping those hoods off and saying
"OK, yeah, we hate him because he's black,
because for us, the tyranny of having someone else win the election
is worse than the tyranny of kings or the tyranny of chains,
and for us, the only freedom that matters
is our freedom to stop you from being different."

They love this nation like a psychotic boyfriend,
ready to beat her, rape her, attack anyone she even talks to.
They'll tear her apart, if they have to,
in the name of their devotion
but I keep thinking about those purple fingers
and the smiling men and solemn women…

we promised them that those fingers were all they'd ever need.