Kids Who Die

By Langston Hughes

James Langston Hughes [1902-1967] was born in Joplin, Missouri, USA, the great-great-grandson of Charles Henry Langston (brother of John Mercer Langston, the first Black American to be elected to public office). He attended Central High School in Cleveland, Ohio, where he began writing poetry in the eighth grade. His father would discourage him from pursuing writing as a career, in favour of something 'more practical'. Langston's tuition fees to Columbia University were paid on the grounds that he study engineering. (allpoetry.com)

Many of you may have read this poem before, some not. I find writers of earlier generations valuable to my soul; they let you join a fellowship of like-minded hearts; they help you understand that you’re not alone. They show to you that these problems of greed, selfishness, and psychopathy have existed since the beginning of time. This is what I believe Jesus the Proletariat, Jesus of Nazareth was referring to in, “Suffer the little children to come unto me”, and, “The poor you will always have with you”.

I thank my wife for having a soul like Langston Hughes. I thank the late Paul Bigman for reminding me of this (RIP).

I offer this to

Carina Malatesta

to soothe her heart. She works very hard producing a News Roundup that many of you read. This news hurts her, because she’s human filled with empathy.

Kids Who Die

by Langston Hughes

This is for the kids who die,
Black and white,
For kids will die certainly.
The old and rich will live on awhile,
As always,
Eating blood and gold,
Letting kids die.

Kids will die in the swamps of Mississippi
Organizing sharecroppers
Kids will die in the streets of Chicago
Organizing workers
Kids will die in the orange groves of California
Telling others to get together
Whites and Filipinos,
Negroes and Mexicans,
All kinds of kids will die
Who don't believe in lies, and bribes, and contentment
And a lousy peace.

Of course, the wise and the learned
Who pen editorials in the papers,
And the gentlemen with Dr. in front of their names
White and black,
Who make surveys and write books
Will live on weaving words to smother the kids who die,
And the sleazy courts,
And the bribe-reaching police,
And the blood-loving generals,
And the money-loving preachers
Will all raise their hands against the kids who die,
Beating them with laws and clubs and bayonets and bullets
To frighten the people—
For the kids who die are like iron in the blood of the people—
And the old and rich don't want the people
To taste the iron of the kids who die,
Don't want the people to get wise to their own power,
To believe an Angelo Herndon, or even get together

Listen, kids who die—
Maybe, now, there will be no monument for you
Except in our hearts
Maybe your bodies'll be lost in a swamp
Or a prison grave, or the potter's field,
Or the rivers where you're drowned like Leibknecht
But the day will come—
You are sure yourselves that it is coming—
When the marching feet of the masses
Will raise for you a living monument of love,
And joy, and laughter,
And black hands and white hands clasped as one,
And a song that reaches the sky—
The song of the life triumphant
Through the kids who die.

*****

This poem is a powerful indictment of the oppressive forces that lead to the deaths of young people who fight for justice. It is a call to action for the people to recognize the power of their own unity and to fight for a better future.

The poem is written in a simple, direct style, with a clear and forceful message. The poet uses repetition and parallel structure to emphasize the point that kids of all races and backgrounds are dying for the same cause. He also uses imagery of violence and oppression to create a sense of urgency and anger.

The poem is similar to Hughes's other works in its focus on social justice and the struggle for equality. It is also typical of the Harlem Renaissance period, which saw a flowering of African American literature and art. (AllPoetry.com)

Encyclopedia Britannica

Sean Griobhtha