Gwendolyn Brooks Visits Russia in 1982 (Version II)
For Nora Brooks Blakely
The closer she gets to it, the closer it gets.
The sky hovers
Like a board
Of review.
The air, a hand over the mouth.
Speech
Gnarled.
The flowers are not variegated.
Just one color.
She wishes for the splendor of Blackness.
In a crowd
Speaks for the need of variety.
The splendor of Blackness. Mystery and music. Muscle. Mind.
There is in Russia a history to witness.
She nods at the old hands,
What they have wrought.
The head scarves. Wrinkled women.
A flight back.
She welcomes the wild and wily
Youth of her own land.
Her people’s hands and backs and brains built
So much.
Have so much to say about.
Stand splendid. Black among the colors.
And so many wise.
And roads to build to the beautiful sun.
