My Reflections on: The Shroud of Color
Is in thy heart."
The passage continues, in which, Countee begins to open up his heart and heal as truth pours in:
"And somehow it was borne upon my brain
How being dark, and living though the pain
Of it, is courage more than angels have.
I knew what storms and tumults lashed the tree that grew
This body that I was, this cringing, I
That feared to contemplate a changing sky,
This that I groveled, whining, "Let me die"
While others struggled in life's abattoir.
The cries of all dark people near or far
Were billowed over me, a mighty surge
Of suffering in which my puny grief must merge
And lose itself; I had no further claim to urge
For death; in shame I raised my dust-grimed head,
And though my lips moved not, God knew I said,
Lord, not for what I saw in flesh or bone
Of faire men; not raised on faith alone;
Lord, I will live persuaded by mine own.
I cannot play the recreant to these;
My spirit has come home, that sailed the doubtful seas."
Here love has blossom in his heart, Countee concludes:
"Right glad I was to stoop to what I once had spurned.
Glad even unto tears; I laughed aloud; I turned
Upon my back,And though the tears for joy would run,
My sight was clear; I looked and saw the rising sun."
The Shroud of Color is a revelation of how Nubians during the Harlem Renaissance era and even to this day have to deal with their skin color and their unique physical characteristics. This poem even written before my time truly touched my soul for I could relate to my own inner conflict of my dark color when I was a little girl. Now I can say with a smile, I too, as it is depicts in this poem, have a renewed feeling of my color. For the shroud is no more my refuge, I am at peace. In my long journey to reach a higher spiritual evolution - I too prayed to the heavens and did received an answer. In my gratitude to my creator and my ancestors; my own dedicated poem to them:
An Opal of Color
I stared deeply into my eyes as tears formed,
I couldn't wait till the Day will end
And I could be born, again.
I touched my woolly hair and then my face and nose,
Latest Articles