The Spider Speaks
No choice but to spin,
the life given.
the life given.
Mother warned me
I would wake one dawn
to a sun no longer yellow,
to an expanse of blue,
no proper word
to name it. Weaving
the patterned threads
of my life, each day
another web and the next.
If instead I could carve
my message in stone,
would it mean more?
I have only this form
to give. When the last
silvery strand leaves
my belly, I will see
what colour the sun
has become.
--- Shara McCallum
From Black Nature
Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry
Camille T. Dungy, Editor
©2010 University of Georgia Press
From Black Nature
Four Centuries of African American Nature Poetry
Camille T. Dungy, Editor
©2010 University of Georgia Press