#AmericanWriters
I look at the world From awakening eyes in a black fac… And this is what I see: This fenced—off narrow space Assigned to me.
From Christ to Ghandi Appears this truth— St. Francis of Assisi Proves it, too: Goodness becomes grandeur
How quiet It is in this sick room Where on the bed A silent woman lies between two lo… Life and Death,
She, In the dark, Found light Brighter than many ever see. She,
I could take the Harlem night and wrap around you, Take the neon lights and make a cr… Take the Lenox Avenue busses, Taxis, subways,
I catch the pattern Of your silence Before you speak I do not need To hear a word.
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?
The ivory gods, And the ebony gods, And the gods of diamond and jade, Sit silently on their temple shelv… While the people
Hold fast to dreams For if dreams die Life is a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
I take my dreams and make of them… and a round fountain with a beauti… And a song with a broken heart and… Do you understand my dreams? Sometimes you say you do,
I live on a park bench. You, Park Avenue. Hell of a distance Between us two. I beg a dime for dinner—
Down in the bass That steady beat Walking walking walking Like marching feet. Down in the bass
