Friday, September 23, 2016

"Harlem," by Langston Hughes (RIP)

What happens to a dream deferred?

      Does it dry up
      like a raisin in the sun?
      Or fester like a sore—
      And then run?
      Does it stink like rotten meat?
      Or crust and sugar over— s
      like a syrupy sweet?

      Maybe it just sags
      like a heavy load.

      Or does it explode?

I wonder what that means.  I know that there was a play called "A Raisin in the Sun" written by the late Lorraine Hansberry.  It was about a black family who was struggling during the racial climate of the 1960s. It was however debuted in 1959, so my timing is off.  I only watched the film and another modern adaptation.  The family ends up moving, but they have their concerns of course, for they were uncertain.  I believe that it was about being black in America at the time Langston Hughes wrote his poem.  He, James Baldwin, and Richard Wright are excellent writers who I highly recommend.  I realize that what is going on nowadays is an example of things staying the same as always.  The dreams of many of us as black people are still deferred.  There is a lot of tension right now, and I pray for a solution or solutions to all of this anger and tension.  I like the last part about the explosion..that is what today's articles in mass media are all about.

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