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A Black Man Talks of Reaping

 I have sown beside all waters in my day.
I planted deep, within my heart the fear that wind or fowl would take the grain away.
I planted safe against this stark, lean year.
I scattered seed enough to plant the land in rows from Canada to Mexico but for my reaping only what the hand can hold at once is all that I can show.
Yet what I sowed and what the orchard yields my brother's sons are gathering stalk and root; small wonder then my children glean in fields they have not sown, and feed on bitter fruit.

Poem by Arna Bontemps
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things