Southern Stars and Stripes

Mason jars and cane poles,

Cheese grits and sweet tea.

If I didn’t fit the common mold,

Would I still have your hospitality?

 

Because the tailgate can still drop,

The shine just waits to be poured.

If I didn’t fit the common mold,

Would I be validated or ignored?

 

The Tom can still be plucked,

And the buck can still be skinned.

The ring of freedom is still heard,

On the eve of its redemption is the win.

 

I hope that one day we can lay down the torches,

That one day the pitchforks will be stored.

The reign of peace and light is upon us,

Shelve the gun and rein the sword.

 

If you’re still here and these words have struck you,

If we are who we both know we’ll be,

When is it then that you’ll reach out?

Start with the grits and the sweet tea.

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