Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!
Call it neither love nor spring madness,
Nor chance encounter nor quest ended.
Observe it casually as pussy willows
Or pushcart pansies on a city street.
Let this seed growing in us
Granite-strong with persistent root
Be without name, or call it the first
Warm wind that caressed your cheek
And traded unshared kisses between us.
Call it the elemental earth
Bursting the clasp of too-long winter
And trembling for the plough-blade.
Let our blood chant it
And our flesh sing anthems to its arrival,
But our lips shall be silent, uncommitted.
Written by Pauli Murray (1910-1985)
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