I've been on tour in the swing states of Appalachia these days -- southern Ohio, West Virginia, southwest Virginia -- having crisscrossed through Indiana, Kentucky, eastern Tennessee, where I saw an Obama sign adjacent to a neighbor's Confederate flag, guided all the way by intrepid Appalachian radio stations playing Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed and Delivered (I'm Yours)".
But one of the most hopeful signs appeared in my email box last night -- these wonderful poems on the historic importance of the election from eastern Kentuckian author Frank X. Walker, the Lannan Award-winning poet and editor of the Affrilachian (African American Appalachian) magazine Pluck:
VOTE OF CONFIDENCE
by Frank X. Walker
Myrlie Evers
Three months before Emmett Till arrived
Reverend George Lee was killed
by a shotgun blast, to the face.
It was ruled, a traffic accident.
He had been the first to register
to vote in his county.
One week before Emmett Till arrived
Lamar Smith voted in the democratic primary
then was shot at high noon
in front of the county courthouse.
There were no arrests.
Medgar cried when he heard about Emmett Till
then he dressed as a sharecropper
helped find witnesses
and smuggled them out of town
for their safety.
When Uncle Mose stood up in court
pointed right at J.W.Milam, and identified him
as the killer, we thought the air would split
but it didn't-instead a seam opened up
in that place where we keep all our fears
OBAMA SHUFFLE
by Frank X. Walker
To the seasoned black women in line behind me when I went to early vote
we move as if chained together, we move like we are
pacing out the complex steps to the new line dance
thank you for taking off work today, for standing
outside in the cold on sore feet for so long
bundled in winter scarves, long skirts, leather coats,
faux fur, bandanas, fatigues, sweats and jeans
clutching designer purses, book bags and paper sacks
to the right, to the right, to the right, to the right
thank you for clearing your throat
when anybody forgot to move the line
thank you for leaning on your canes
for looking over your reading glasses
to the left, to the left, to the left, to the left
for casting a watchful eye at the poll workers
and at me and at everybody within squinting distance
for wearing my mother's nose on your faces, for wearing
her shoes, for standing with your hands on your hips too
now kick, now kick, now kick, now kick
now move as if chained together, now move like we are
pacing out the complex steps to the new line dance
now walk it by yourself, now walk it by yourself
