Photos by John Todd Waterman

This poem is dedicated in Loving Memory of Tommy Johnson, one of the first responders of the 2008 Kingston, TN, coal ash disaster, who passed away in May 2023, and to the Late Doug Bledsoe and Ansol Clark, the many ailing cleanup workers, and those who have lost their lives. 

Tommy’s wife, Betty Johnson, and Julie and Ron Bledsoe, a fellow Kingston cleanup worker, joined us in Chicago on June 28, 2023, at the EPA hearing on the new proposed federal coal ash regulations and at the afternoon rally and press conference.

To learn more about the Kingston coal ash disaster and how you can support the cleanup workers and their families, visit rememberkingston.wordpress.com.

Through the wood-fired smog, we marched,

Shouting our slogans in the valleys of Chicago’s skyscrapers

Parading, breathless, for blocks and blocks,

Bemused outdoor lunch crowds watched us, somewhat worriedly.

From 22 states

And gathered at Federal Plaza.

A Son Jarocho Band played for us, our songs together.

We circled, raised our signs and banners,

Speeches rang out,

Interspersed with chants, songs, shouts,

Letting the world and news channels know

That coal ash in our water and winds can only kill.

Breathless, I sat down.

A lady with a very sick husband,

She was tired, too. She sat down beside me.

He had worked at the Kingston Fossil plant,

And at the clean-up after the disaster.

Like his colleagues, denied the safety they so deserved,

Even after asking to be able to wear protective equipment,

Denied. Denied. Betrayed.

Able and proud, this man, this protector, was denied protection.

Husbands are not electricity, not shares in a company.

Husbands are smiles, holding hands, kisses, vacations, retirement plans.

But not for this brave woman, nor for her widowed friends

I apologized for our Chicago air,

But having faced worse, she understood,

And said it was worth it to speak

Her life to power, even if that power was just EPA kids,

Trained to sit there, neutral, writing notes, and

Trying not to take our stories or tears personally.

It would have been impossible for her to not show up.

Our stories have the energy, the power,

The electricity, to protect all of America,

Just like that able and proud woman,

Whose life is now spent in places like this,

With us, protecting America.

She can’t not.

We will be there, beside her, and for her, because like her,

We can’t not.