PraiseSong for Annie Allen
Before you
There was none so high
Minded,
So elegantly eloquent.
You were high standing
Fruit.
The story of an original,
Ordinary Black girl
Turned woman
Yet
More like you,
Extraordinary.
You turned to the mirror
And the mirror
Wept
At such loveliness
It could not see
Itself.
The singers sang
Out of range
To hear your cry.
A poem obedient
To Heaven.
You asked questions
Of the fallen fields
And the tallest flowers.
You waited for love
And wilted at disappointment,
Then danced in memories.
Who would mother the children?
You loved the children.
You, Annie Allen, were good
At heart. Superb in soul.
Worthy of memory.
Worthy
Of memory.
Deserving
Of reward.
Notes:
The portfolio this poem is part of is comprised of selections from a new seventy-fifth anniversary edition of Annie Allen (Brooks Permissions, 2024), and published here by permission of Nora Brooks Blakely. You can read the rest of the portfolio in the September 2024 issue.
Source: Poetry (September 2024)