-Langston Hughes
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
Sunday, April 19, 2009
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I'd first come upon this poem years and years ago, when I read "To Be Young, Gifted and Black: Lorraine Hansberry in Her Own Words (1969)" - a book I'd borrowed from the British Library in Bombay. Hansberry, who died too young (age 34, of cancer) spoke of this poem, and of her play - "A raisin in the sun" - with a lyricism I can still taste. It brought this short, angry piece to life... I remember not being able to sit still, I so had to find out more about Langston Hughes.
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