Bread & Roses // Hakim Bellamy

poem 14.
Bread & Roses
Hakim Bellamy

The very first unions in America
Were brought here by boatBroken by backBy whipRapeAnd rope 

Nowadays
LiesAnd a bogeyman economyDo the trick

The only thing scarier
Than laborIs losing it

Even the House
And SenateCan come togetherAround houseAnd fieldDivide and conquer

Give us power
But not positionGive us personnelBut not privilegeGive us responsibilityBut not rightsOr profitsOr shares 

Give us a sniff
Of American exceptionalismGet us drunkOff of upward mobilityPut us behind the wheelOf the American DreamUntil we launch ourselvesInto a windshieldThat will not let us ejectOr escapeThis cabin 

I come from
A long line of laborersA lineage of long Black men 

Who nowadays
Only unionize for sportWho are eitherRich enough to be locked outOr poor enoughTo be locked in

But back then
Were Memphis enoughTo get Dr. KingTo detour toward deathIn the name of fairness

Air Jordan-esque working conditions
Laceless wagesBootsThat were begging for straps 

We are Colonial Philadelphia
1806ersJourneymenConvicted of criminal conspiracy 

We are New York (1829)
Workingmen’s PartyWhen sixty hoursA six-day workweekWas radical

Every morning
We wake up Knights of LaborTo whistles of workAnd whispers of worse

Integrated women
And our own Negro spirituals of sortsHold the forts

At a time when mining companies
Would send dynamite husbandsHome in a bucket

And Mothers
Like JonesWho lived in homesRented from the employerFed familyWith currencyOnly good at the company storeHad three daysTo replace “Papa”With one of her sonsSo production doesn’t sufferNo matter how young we wasNo matter how much she does

We are immigrants
Mollies (1877) pushed too farWe are the childrenWorked too hardThe reason Mary Harris marchedFrom the City of Brotherly LoveTo Teddy Roosevelt’s front porch 

We found our own Congress
Of Industrial OrganizationsTo replace the oneThat has forsaken us 

We are sit-down strikes
In the buildings they valueWith our bodiesThat they do not 

We are wage equity
And wage war 

We are ripped-off scabs
That will not bandage their cuts after we strike

Only band together
Our bloodAnd heal 

We are still leaping
From ninth floor windowsAt the Triangle Waist Company (1911)

We are Clara Lemlich
We are Dolores HuertaWe are Cesar ChavezWe are Samuel GompersWe are Gabriel ProsserWe are Lucy Gonzalez Parsons (IWW)And we are Rosie the Riveter 

We are the hand on the Bible
Denying we’re socialistWe are the witches of Taft-Hartley 

We are holy, Jerry Fallwell
Salt of the EarthWho forever put love of GodBefore love of Greed

You said,
“Labor unions should study and read the Bibleinstead of asking for more money . . .” 

But we are pickers
Who reap and sowAnd read 

Sirach 34:22
To take away a neighbor’s livingis to murder him; to deprive an employee of his wageis to shed blood. 

We teamsters and longshoremen
And just like youWe ain’t perfect

Proverbs 14:31
He who oppresses a poor man,insults his Maker. 

We are closed factories
And empty mouthsAuto, textiles, and steel

We are the meek
Who inherit ourselvesWe are the lambThe sacrifice and the carpenterthat said 

The worker deserves his wages.
Luke 10:7 

We are the people
Who power dreamsAnd profitAnd are for grantedAnd are forgotten

We are the people who brought you the weekend
We aren’t coming home empty-handedWe are back pockets of college tuitionWe are stuffed between the mattresses of future Christmases 

We are smiles
On our children’s facesAnd even though we are sometimes facelessWe are food in the fridge

We are hero and heroine

We are coming back
Coming homeEvery nightIn one piece 

Please, please believe
That we are all hard workAnd belief

We are about 5:05
5:306:15WeAre bread and rosesFor dinner