Lucia Mae Pitts – Requiem
from Negro Voices. 1938
If I should hear tonight that you were dead,
forsaking me and all this earthly place,
I do not think that I would bow my head
and weep wild tears into a square of lace.
I think I’d only silently arise
and step outside, then walk and walk and walk
until I found some hill that touched the skies,
long leagues away from any madd’ning talk.
High up, where stars swarm bright, I’d disembark
my sorrow on the cool, receptive ground.
And in that quiet place, warmed by the spark
of memory, I think strength could be found
to bear my loss dry-eyed, and see the days
go by much as before- though with less praise . . .
I have searched for that hill! I search still.
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