My dreams, my works, must wait till after hell
My dreams, my works, must wait till after hell Lyrics
In little jars and cabinets of my will.
I label clearly, and each latch and lid
I bid, Be firm till I return from hell.
I am very hungry. I am incomplete.
And none can tell when I may dine again.
No man can give me any word but Wait,
The puny light. I keep eyes pointed in;
Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt
Drag out to their last dregs and I resume
On such legs as are left me, in such heart
As I can manage, remember to go home,
My taste will not have turned insensitive
To honey and bread old purity could love.
About
“My dreams, my works, must wait till after hell” is one of Gwendolyn Brooks' earlier poems, first appearing in her first published volume, A Street in Bronzeville, in 1945. Brooks' drew inspiration from her community in Chicago, and heavily focuses on the experiences of black people, and often specifically black women, in this setting.
This poem specifically explains the experience of stripping oneself of everything but what is necessary to survive in a period of stress or conflict, as well as the hope that those things might be brought back after the stress has passed.
The following link from the U.S. Library of Congress goes into greater detail on the context of the time, and how it specifically influenced this poem.
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