- Aug 10, 2013
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gwendolyn_B._Bennett
I played the ebony flute and actually loved it back in the day...i still play it and was pricing one online when i came across this article and read a few lines...
"Epitaph"- Gwendolyn Bennett
When I am dead, carve this upon my stone:
Here lies a woman, fit root for flower and tree,
Whose living flesh, now mouldering round the bone,
Wants nothing more than this for immortality,
That in her heart, where love so long unfruited lay
A seed for grass or weed shall grow,
And push to light and air its heedless way;
That she who lies here dead may know
Through all the putrid marrow of her bones
The searing pangs of birth,
While none may know the pains nor hear the groans
Of she who lived with barrenness upon the earth.
I played the ebony flute and actually loved it back in the day...i still play it and was pricing one online when i came across this article and read a few lines...
"Epitaph"- Gwendolyn Bennett
When I am dead, carve this upon my stone:
Here lies a woman, fit root for flower and tree,
Whose living flesh, now mouldering round the bone,
Wants nothing more than this for immortality,
That in her heart, where love so long unfruited lay
A seed for grass or weed shall grow,
And push to light and air its heedless way;
That she who lies here dead may know
Through all the putrid marrow of her bones
The searing pangs of birth,
While none may know the pains nor hear the groans
Of she who lived with barrenness upon the earth.