Good Friday Morning, Fellow Seekers.
With so many banks and public offices either closed or shuttering early in honor of the Juneteenth holiday today, we’re doing the same, and ceding the floor to one of the most eloquent and most necessary voices in American literature his morning:
The poet Langston Hughes, who asked in his poem, “Harlem:”
“What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?”
We’ll be considering Hughes’ question this Friday morning, as we continue working to make the Pennsylvania Capital-Star a publication truly reflective of all its readers.
See you back here on Monday.