2. Her poetry is characterized by  Social conscience  Ethnicity  Gender  History  Afro Cuban Identity

3. Nancy Morejón was born August 7,1944, in Havana Cuba. Her mother was a fieldworker and her father a sailor. She grew up in Old Havana in a neighborhood called los Sitios

4. Nancy began writing poetry at age 9. Poetry became her best friend and grew up and matured with her. As she matured and came to grips with her feminine and Cuban negritude her poetry moved to a higher level.

5. Cuban Revolutionary Ideology granted Black Cubans a sense of purpose and belonging and the possibility to reconcile with the painful history of the past.

6. I can still smell the spray off the sea they made me cross I don’t remember the night Not the sea itself could remember But I can’t forge the first alcatraz I saw The clouds, high, innocent on-the-spot witnesses. Neither have I forgotten my lost coast, nor my mother tongue. They brought me here and here I have lived. And because I worked like a beast I was born again, right here. …… Here in this land I touched the blood and rotting bones of others, brought here or not as I was. And I never again imagined the road to Guinea. Was it Guinea? Benn? Was it to Madagascar ? Or Cape Verde? I worked much more. I gave greater touchstone to my ancient song and hope. I built a world here. I went to the hills My true independence brought me on stage and I rode with Maceo’s troops. Only a century later With my descendants from that blue mountain would I come out of the hills to put an end to capital and to moneylenders, generals and bourgeoisie. Now I am. Only today do we have and make. Nothing is lost to us. Ours the land. Ours the sea and sky. Ours the magic and rage. My equals, here I watch you dance around the tree we put in the ground for communism. Her prodigious wood already sounds.

7. Richard Brought His Flute The African gods oscillate around his fingers. The fingers in his right hand diminished the rhythm Slowly The chose one brings his flute We all ask for his presences around the oak table