Langston Hughes was one of the many vibrant and eloquent voices of
the Harlem Renaissance. And like Yeats and Hopkins and Owen and Marlowe, I
just can’t get enough of him; in the six years I’ve marked National Poetry
Month, this is the fifth time I’ve included one or more poems by Hughes.
Today we’re having “I Look at the World” because I’ve been
thinking a lot about what it means to be the out-of-place ones in our society.
Hughes always captures that viewpoint concisely.
“I Look at the World”
I
look at the world
From
awakening eyes in a black face—
And
this is what I see:
This
fenced-off narrow space
Assigned
to me.
I
look then at the silly walls
Through
dark eyes in a dark face—
And
this is what I know:
That
all these walls oppression builds
Will
have to go!
I
look at my own body
With
eyes no longer blind—
And I
see that my own hands can make
The
world that's in my mind.
Then
let us hurry, comrades,
The
road to find.
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