In these gloomy autumn days I have to remember that the sun is always there. I may not see it, but it's there all the same.
Langston Hughes wrote a wonderful poem about the sun (his dream) being blocked by the wall of his black-ness.
As I Grew Older
It was a long time ago.
It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun--
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky--
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!
- Langston Hughes
2 comments:
That is so poignant, Ruth! The Sun is ALWAYS there. I'm guessing it's meant that we don't always see it so that we're forced to break through the walls we erect.
Ginnie, I agree.
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