Welcome to Poem of the Week, an annual feature on this blog that celebrates National Poetry Month. Every Sunday, in the month of April, start the week off with an uplifting poem and discovery why poetry still matters.
Although things may be returning to some normalcy, poetry can still provide us the comfort and solace we need during these trying times. Poetry is such an amazing and inspiration genre to take part in and National Poetry Month is great to discover its powerful impact. So let these words move you…you will not regret it.
Far from this foreign Easter damp and chilly My soul steals to a pear-shaped plot of ground, Where gleamed the lilac-tinted Easter lily Soft-scented in the air for yards around;
Alone, without a hint of guardian leaf! Just like a fragile bell of silver rime, It burst the tomb for freedom sweet and brief In the young pregnant year at Eastertime;
Perhaps she has a plan, perhaps she takes him back to hers And many thought it was a sacred sign, And some called it the resurrection flower; And I, a pagan, worshiped at its shrine, Yielding my heart unto its perfumed power.
From Harlem Shadows (New York, Harcourt, Brace and company, 1922) by Claude McKay. This poem is in the public domain.