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(7 June 1917 – 3 December 2000 / Topeka, Kansas)

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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.

Submitted: Thursday, January 01, 2004


Read poems about / on: remember, home, light, heart, dream, hope, work

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Comments about this poem (Primer For Blacks by Gwendolyn Brooks )

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  • Melissa Muchemwa (3/27/2007 7:54:00 AM)

    another great poem by Gwendolyn Brooks that simply comes from the heart xxx

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