This was originally published in the Richmond Free Press on the Editorial Page for the May 10-12, 2007 edition as a special Mother’s Day tribute.

This inspirational poem, “The Negro Mother,” written by Langston Hughes in the early 1930s, is reprinted here to hopefully depict the harsh treatment and struggles common to Black women. It is reprinted also because its subject and message remain relevant, stirring and poignant. Although bittersweet, this vivid piece, filled with pride, will ring in the ears of Black women from all walks of life — the field worker, the factory worker, the teacher, the social worker, the medical professional, the homemaker, the businesswoman.

Many of the injustices suffered by women upon whom this lamentation focuses still abound today. And yet, the poem is a clarion call to the mother of the nation’s children to hold on and rise up, ever persistent — ever hopeful — ever proud — in the quest for justice, peace, learning and the opportunity which all deserve.

Children, I come back today

To tell you a story of the long dark way

That I had to climb, that I had to know

In order that the race might live and grow.

Look at my face—dark as the night—

Yet shining like the sun with love’s true light.

I am the child they stole from the sand

Three hundred years ago in Africa’s land.

I am the dark girl who crossed the wide sea

Carrying in my body the seed of the free.

I am the woman who worked in the field

Bringing the cotton and the corn to yield.

I am the one who labored as a slave,

Beaten and mistreated for the work that I gave—

Children sold away from me, husband sold, too.

No safety, no love, no respect was I due.

Three hundred years in the deepest South:

But God put a song and a prayer in my mouth.

God put a dream like steel in my soul.

Now, through my children, I’m reaching the goal.

Now, through my children, young and free,

I realize the blessings denied to me.

I couldn’t read then. I couldn’t write.

I had nothing, back there in the night.

Sometimes, the valley was filled with tears,

But I kept trudging on through the lonely years.

Sometimes, the road was hot with sun,

But I had to keep on till my work was done:

I had to keep on! No stopping for me—

I was the seed of the coming Free.

I nourished the dream that nothing could smother

Deep in my breast—the Negro mother.

I had only hope then, but now through you,

Dark ones of today, my dreams must come true:

All you dark children in the world out there,

Remember my sweat, my pain, my despair.

Remember my years, heavy with sorrow—

And make of those years a torch for tomorrow.

Make of my past a road to the light

Out of the darkness, the ignorance, the night.

Lift high my banner out of the dust.

Stand like free men supporting my trust.

Believe in the right, let none push you back.

Remember the whip and the slaver’s track.

Remember how the strong in struggle and strife

Still bar you the way, and deny you life—

But march ever forward, breaking down bars.

Look ever upward at the sun and the stars.

Oh, my dark children, may my dreams and my prayers

Impel you forever up the great stairs—

For I will be with you till no white brother

Dares keep down the children of the Negro mother.