Heritage

I want to see the slim palm-trees,

Pulling at the clouds

With little pointed fingers….

I want to see lithe Negro girls,

Etched dark against the sky

While sunset lingers.

I want to hear the silent sands,

Singing to the moon

Before the Sphinx-still face….

I want to hear the chanting

Around a heathen fire

Of a strange black race.

I want to breathe the Lotus flow’r,

Sighing to the stars

With tendrils drinking at the Nile….

I want to feel the surging

Of my sad people’s soul

Hidden by a minstrel-smile.