Theme flish B
The instructor said,
Go home and write
a page tonight.
Ahat page e out of you--
Then, it will be true.
I wonder if its that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I e to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:
Its not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess Im what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and uand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesnt make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?
Bei will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
Thats Ameri.
Sometimes perhaps you dont want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, thats true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although youre older--and white--
and somewhat more free.
This is my page flish B.
Langston Hughes