Saturday, February 6, 2021

A Poem by Gwendolyn Brooks


my dreams, my works, must wait till after hell

I hold my honey and I store my bread
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
I label clearly, and each latch and lid
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep my eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love. 

Gwendolyn Brooks

1 comment:

  1. A strong, simple and visual work. Thank you posting her poem and a pleasure to know about her. Can alway count on you to find and share the works of others.