Kenneth Johnson

The Civil Rights Act officially ended
segregation in the Great Society
of the United States of America, yet those in power 
will never relinquish it without a holy war as on 
the dark night of February 8, 1968, in the 
garden city of Orangeburg, South Carolina.

The Orangeburg Massacre. The first blood
exacted by police on a university campus.
It predated famous Kent State,
predated Lynch Street at Jackson State, where 
those with blood on their whitewashed hands
have never faced reproach nor retribution.

Harry K. Floyd coveted power and hate
and his God-given right to break laws
of foolish men who insisted all people 
be treated equally with respect. He would 
keep his beloved all-star bowling alley in 
the garden city undefiled. As God intended.

They gathered at SC State unarmed around 
a protest bonfire on a cold winter night,  
lit up like daylight by shotgun blasts from the
peacekeepers amidst utter chaos and splattered
blood leaving three dead sons and twenty eight 
wounded to be taken to segregated hospitals.

The bloodiest civil rights massacre
in South Carolina history left countless others
behind to live with scars and wounds 
that will never heal. Say the names of the dead. 

Henry Smith.
Samuel Hammond Jr.
Delano Middleton.

On ‘Orangeburg Massacre’

The Orangeburg Massacre was a painful and tragic chapter in American history. Those responsible for the deaths and injuries were never held accountable. Today, few people remember the events of this horrific night. A nation’s deep wounds caused by systemic racism and human rights violations will never be healed by ignoring history. It is my hope, and intention, that poems like these will help keep this history alive.

The photograph accompanying this poem is courtesy of © Davion Petty.