The clouds were low
when the sun rose that day.
For the white folks were coming
to lay some black brothers away.

From eight surrounding counties,
the white folks came,
with 12 hundred locks
and some brand new chains.

The word was kill niggers,
kill all you can.
For they don’t have the right
to live like men.

Then up in the sky
appeared a big green bird.
And from inside came
these few words.

“Put your hands on your heads
and you won’t get hurt,
lie on your bellies,
put your face in the dirt.”

Then from a distance
came a black brother’s cry.
“I’m a man, white folks,
and like a man I’ll die.”

This poem was written by Isaiah Hawkins who was a prisoner at Attica. He was a member of the prison liaison committee who worked for the betterment of all inmates’ conditions. He wrote the poem as a member of a poetry workshop that was intended as a rehabilitative measure for Attica. A series of 8 week poetry workshops began on May 24, 1972 and was run by Celes Tisdale who was a member of the Buffalo Black Drama workshop. Mr. Tisdale selected some of the poems from the workshops and published a pamphlet titled “Betcha Ain’t: Poems from Attica.” This is where I found Mr. Hawkins’s affecting poem. He was released soon after the workshop began.