Gwendolyn Brooks Visits Russia in 1982 (Version II)

The closer she gets to it, the closer it gets.

The sky hovers

Like a board

Of review.

The air, a hand over the mouth.

Speech

Gnarled.

The flowers are not variegated.

Just one color.

She wishes for the splendor of Blackness.

In a crowd

Speaks for the need of variety.

The splendor of Blackness. Mystery and music. Muscle. Mind.

There is in Russia a history to witness.

She nods at the old hands,

What they have wrought.

The head scarves. Wrinkled women.

A flight back.

She welcomes the wild and wily

Youth of her own land.

Her people’s hands and backs and brains built

So much.

Have so much to say about.

Stand splendid. Black among the colors.

And so many wise.

And roads to build to the beautiful sun.