Discovering Harlem Renaissance

I have recently discovered poetry by Harlem Renaissance artists. I love the passion of McKay: “Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack, / Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!” These lines are haunting but inspiring. They arise out of the race riots of 1919. I think that Churchill read this sonnet to the disheartened English during WW II. The controversy over form among HR writers is interesting to note. I tend to like the dialectical free form poetry the best, such as “Mother to Son” by Langston Hughes. I can’t resist quoting the poem: “Well, son, I’ll tell you: / Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair. / It’s had tacks in it, / And splinters, / And boards torn up. / And places with no carpet on the floor-- / Bare. / But all the time / I’se been a-climbin’ on, / And reachin’ landin’s / And turnin’ corners, / And sometimes goin’ in the dark / Where there ain’t been no light. / So boy, don’t you turn back. / Don’t you set down on the steps / ‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard. / Don’t you fall now-- / For I’se still goin’, honey, / I’se still climbin’, / And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.” This poem makes me want to laugh and cry. I just connect with it. For me the poem is a paradox. It’s all stoicism, but as the reader, all I feel is raw emotion.