Poetry Friday

I am teaching an article this morning on the reluctance to talk about racism and the cultural transmission of racism through the lack of exposure to racial minorities. It reminded me of a poem I read by Countee Cullen when I was in high school. But I couldn't find that one. So I am posting this one instead.

To Certain Critics

By Countee Cullen

Then call me traitor if you must,   

Shout treason and default!

Say I betray a sacred trust

Aching beyond this vault.

I’ll bear your censure as your praise,   

For never shall the clan

Confine my singing to its ways

Beyond the ways of man.

No racial option narrows grief,

Pain is no patriot,

And sorrow plaits her dismal leaf   

For all as lief as not.

With blind sheep groping every hill,   

Searching an oriflamme,

How shall the shepherd heart then thrill   

To only the darker lamb?