—: We Who Are Dark :— We who are dark And know the lash On bodies worn, Insensate made Through years of wrong; That feel no more The scourge, the whip— We who are dark And know the hurt Of pitiless scorn On souls that live And feel the dart And thrust of wrong; The greedy glance Of sinful lust— We who are dark And know the urge Of blinding rage And fury red. That eats and burns; The ache of hands Pressed on by hearts On vengeance bent— We've won your praise That side by side With those who taught Us all our woes We bravely march Nor backward glance. Not hesitant, Nor slow, but with Quickening tread Old wrongs, old sores Forgotten lie; Brothers-in-arms, As we march forth To victory, Bearing aloft To foreign lands A freedom sweet That's not our own.
Clara Burrill Bruce (1879-1947) was; “A graduate with high honors from the Boston University School of Law, and was admitted to the Massachusetts State Bar examination in 1926. She is the second African American woman to do so.” (The Crisis, 1926) “Won distinction at Boston University by being elected editor of the university law journal.” (Opportunity, 1926)
“Bruce was the Assistant Resident Manager and Director of Welfare Services at the Paul Laurence Dunbar Apartments in Harlem, NYC, starting in August, 1927. She was also the Associate Editor of the Dunbar News from 1929 to 1934.” (‘Memorandum’, in the W.E.B. De Bois Papers) She would go on to co-found the Harlem Congressional League and the National Council of Negro Women in the 1930s. While this is Bruce’s only published poem, like Fenton Johnson, she stands as a significant forerunner to the Harlem renaissance.
Illustrations by Frank Walts (The Crisis, June 1918).
—: After Clara Burrill :— by Dick Whyte word | | from the dark | light | from the light | shade | from the shade | | life | world
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A fine line between word and world and the light that slips through and begets life.
Love this, Dick 🖤
An undeniable picture is painted with those words. Horrible, but amazingly written.