Gwendolyn Brooks

To The Diaspora

You did not know you were Afrika

When you set out for Afrika you did not know you were going. Because you did not know you were Afrika. You did not know the Black continent that had to be reached was you. I could not have told you then that some sun would come, somewhere over the road, would come evoking the diamonds of you, the Black continent-- somewhere over the road. You would not have believed my mouth. When I told you, meeting you somewhere close to the heat and youth of the road, liking my loyalty, liking belief, you smiled and you thanked me but very little believed me. Here is some sun. Some. Now off into the places rough to reach. Though dry, though drowsy, all unwillingly a-wobble, into the dissonant and dangerous crescendo. Your work, that was done, to be done to be done to be done.

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