I hold my honey and I store my bread <br />In little jars and cabinets of my will. <br />I label clearly, and each latch and lid <br />I bid, Be firm till I return from hell. <br />I am very hungry. I am incomplete. <br />And none can give me any word but Wait, <br />The puny light. I keep my eyes pointed in; <br />Hoping that, when the devil days of my hurt <br />Drag out to their last dregs and I resume <br />On such legs as are left me, in such heart <br />As I can manage, remember to go home, <br />My taste will not have turned insensitive <br />To honey and bread old purity could love.<br /><br />Gwendolyn Brooks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-dreams-my-works-must-wait-till-after-hell/
