New Orleans Massacre

In the sweltering haze of a July day,
New Orleans bore witness to a dark ballet,
A dance of hate, where history's stage
Was stained with blood, an ink of rage.

In the shadow of the Mechanics Institute,
Where voices gathered, seeking justice to meet,
Black and white, a Constitutional quest,
But the air was thick, a storm in the breast.

Delegates marched, a solemn parade,
Behind the flag, hopes not to fade,
Yet Mayor Monroe, with a tainted past,
Led a mob, a die already cast.

A hundred and thirty, footsteps strong,
Marched to change, to right a wrong,
But the mob, a tempest of hate,
Blocked their path, sealed their fate.

Intent claimed noble, to quell unrest,
Yet truth lay hidden in the mob's dark chest,
As shots echoed through the Crescent City's air,
A prelude to a massacre, a nation to scare.

To the Institute, they pressed ahead,
A sea of hopes, a tide to be bled,
Inside, safety sought, but outside they fell,
A symphony of chaos, a descent to hell.

Windows shattered, a hail of lead,
The mob, a torrent, filled with dread,
Delegates beaten, lives undone,
Innocence lost 'neath the southern sun.

The Institute, a fortress besieged,
By hate's storm, the innocent squeezed,
Amidst the gunfire's deafening sound,
Heroes emerged, the desperate found.

But ammunition waned, and the mob returned,
Doors shattered, lessons unlearned,
Delegates fell, a tragic cascade,
Justice abandoned, in the riot's shade.

Flee or surrender, the choices stark,
A city plunged into the abyss, so dark,
Some who yielded met a swift demise,
A sacrifice to hate, beneath Louisiana skies.

Street by street, the violence spread,
As if the city itself bled,
Union veterans, black and bold,
In the chaos, their stories told.

Streetcars halted, freedom denied,
Humanity withers, and innocence died,
A stain on the South, a scar on the land,
A massacre scripted by hate's cruel hand.

And as the echoes of gunfire subsided,
A nation shuddered, its conscience divided,
Repercussions, a political quake,
A republic's foundation began to shake.

In the aftermath, a nation's eye,
Turned toward justice, reaching for the sky,
Reconstruction's call, a healing balm,
In the ruins of New Orleans, a hopeful psalm.