Countee Cullen (born Countee LeRoy Porter; May 30, 1903 – January 9, 1946) was an American poet, novelist, children's writer, and playwright, particularly well known during the Harlem Renaissance.[1] (wikipedia)
Lord, forgive me if my need Sometimes shapes a human creed.
Death cut the strings that gave me life, And handed me to Sorrow, The only kind of middle wife My folks could beg or borrow.
Lord, I fashion dark gods, too, Daring even to give You Dark despairing features
Ever at Thy glowing altar Must my heart grow sick and falter, Wishing He I served were black.
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, So I make an idle boast; Jesus of the twice-turned cheek Lamb of God, although I speak With my mouth thus, in my heart Do I play a double part.
Africa? A book one thumbs Listlessly, till slumber comes.
Quaint, outlandish heathen gods Black men fashion out of rods
I have a rendezvous with life.
Give but a grain of the heart's rich seed, Confine some under cover, And when love goes, bid him God-speed. And find another lover.
What is last year's snow to me, Last year's anything? The tree Budding yearly must forget How its past arose or set