To Usward by Gwendolyn Bennett
Let us be still
As ginger jars are still
Upon a Chinese shelf.
And let us be contained
By entities if self….
Not still with lethargy and
sloth,
But quiet with the pushing of
our growth.
Not self-contained with smug
identity
But conscious of the strength
in entity.
If any have a song to
sing
That's different from the
rest,
Oh let them sing
Before the urgency of Youth's
behest!
For some of us have songs to
sing
Of jungle heat and fires,
And some of us are solemn
grown
With pitiful desires,
And there are those who feel
the pull
Of seas beneath the
skies,
And some there be who want to
croon
Of Negro lullabies.
We claim no part with racial
dearth;
We want to sing the songs of
birth!
And so we stand like ginger
jars
Like ginger jars bound
‘round
With dust and age;
Like jars of ginger we are
sealed
By nature’s heritage.
But let us break the seal of
years
With pungent thrusts of
song,
For there is joy in long-dried
tears
For whetted passions of a
throng!