Maya Angelou

poems:

42

the mothering blackness

She came home running back to the mothering blackness, deep in the smothering blackness, white tears icicle gold plains of her face. She came home running. She came down creeping here to the black arms waiting now to the warm heart waiting rime of alien dreams befrosts her rich brown face. She came down creeping. She came home blameless black yet as Hagar's daughter tall as was Sheba's daughter threats of northern winds die on the desert's face. She came home blameless.

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