The Collected Poems of Audre Lorde

by Audre Lorde

And children who are murdered Before their lives begin. Who pays his crops to the sun When the fields are parched by drought Will mourn the lost water while waiting another rain. But who shall dis-inter these girls To love the women they were to become Or read the legends written beneath their skin?

But however many girls be brought to sun Someday

Suspension We entered silence Before the clock struck Red wine is caught between the crystal And your fingers The air solidifys around your mouth. Once-wind has sucked the curtains in Like fright, against the evening wall Prepared for storm Before the room Exhales Your lips unfold. Within their sudden opening I hear the clock Begin to speak again. I remember now, with the filled crystal Shattered, the wind-whipped curtains Bound, and the cold storm Finally broken, How the room felt When your word was spoken— Warm As the center of your palms And as unfree.