We were not made to eternally weep.
I was reared in the conservative atmosphere of a Methodist parsonage.
Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:/ To make a poet black, and bid him sing!
The truth is... everything counts. Everything. Everything we do and everything we say. Everything helps or hurts; everything adds to or takes away from someone else.
If I am going to be a poet at all, I am going to be POET and not NEGRO POET.
I have a rendezvous with life.