Theme For English B

 The instructor said,

 Go home and write
 a page tonight.

 And let that page come out of you--
 Then, it will be true.


I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.

I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.

I am the only colored student in my class.

The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St.
 Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me 
at twenty-two, my age.
 But I guess I'm what 
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.

(I hear New York, too.
) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.

I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.

I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.

I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.

So will my page be colored that I write?

Being me, it will not be white.
 
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
 
You are white-- 
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
 
That's American.

Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
 
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.

But we are, that's true! 
As I learn from you, 
I guess you learn from me-- 
although you're older--and white-- 
and somewhat more free.


This is my page for English B.

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