I just came across a poem by Langston Hughes as I was straightening up my kitchen counter for Thanksgiving. I don’t know how it ended up in my recipe book but there it was, a water-stained piece of recycled paper and the poem scratched out in handwriting a little neater than my norm. I’d copied it several months ago from my big Langston Hughes collection of poems, knowing I’d want to use it somewhere, sometime, when the mood struck or the need arose.

Its appearance feels prophetically timely in light of comedian Michael Richard’s recent tirade at a comedy club in LA.  I hate to even mention the name of anyone who utters racial slurs but his outburst was incredibly hurtful. I do believe this poem crossed my path so I could bring it to light, now. Here it is.

The White Ones

by Langston Hughes 

I do not hate you,

For your faces are beautiful, too.

I do not hate you,

Your faces are whirling lights of loveliness and splendor, too. 

Yet why do you torture me,

O, white strong ones,

Why do you torture me?  

This Thanksgiving I give thanks for the courage and the eloquence of Langston Hughes. He gives balance to our daily existence and the kind of comfort that only truth can lend. His words will continue to sustain us until the day when racism recedes and all men know how cruel it is to hate.  

At the very least, why can’t they keep their hatred to themselves?