One wants a Teller in a time like this.

One’s not a man, one’s not a woman grown,

To bear enormous business all alone.

One cannot walk this winding street with pride,

Straight-shouldered, tranquil-eyed,

Knowing one knows for sure the way back home.

One wonders if one has a home.

One is not certain if or why or how.

One wants a Teller now: —

Put on your rubbers and you won’t catch cold.

Here’s hell, there’s heaven. Go to Sunday School.

Be patient, time brings all good things — (and cool

Strong balm to calm the burning at the brain?) —

Behold, Love’s true, and triumphs; and God’s actual.

~ Gwendolyn Brooks