31: This Is My Country Too, 1965, by John A. Williams (1925–2015)
I had not known him—not at all—
Until I read that he had died.
And then I answered Williams’ call—
And read his works—felt ... modified.
In this one—journalism’s best—
He drives around the USA
And passes every kind of test
That racists drag into his way.
The book is fearless—brave and true—
And Williams’ pen is dipped in blood,
And all those portraits that he drew
In words that formed a fatal flood
Reminded me how much we need
To change our stupid racial ways:
We can’t let attitudes impede—
And set all that we love ablaze.
I read the rest of Williams’ art—
And found myself somewhat in awe
Of Williams, who had done his part
To alter what’s become our law.
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