I wrote this in 2007, to my hero, Maya Angelou (4/4/28 - 5/28/14).
AN ANSWER TO MAYA ANGELOU
What could a mere poet be
who speaks of rivers
and rocks and trees?
who speaks of rivers
and rocks and trees?
To a young girl
who might not believe
she is sturdy, whole and free.
who might not believe
she is sturdy, whole and free.
What if this poet told her
“Give birth again
To the dream.”
So this girl would know
how to touch the stars
when they appeared too far to reach.
how to touch the stars
when they appeared too far to reach.
If this poet rose,
and danced and sang
and prayed.
and danced and sang
and prayed.
Would that young girl
see that she could
rock the world with her whispers,
unafraid?
see that she could
rock the world with her whispers,
unafraid?
To that dear poet
who pulled herself from beneath
and said to this young girl
it was all right to believe.
who pulled herself from beneath
and said to this young girl
it was all right to believe.
To that rock
that river
that tree –
it is with tenderness and love
that I take root and grow,
to be happy
to be joyous
to be free.
that river
that tree –
it is with tenderness and love
that I take root and grow,
to be happy
to be joyous
to be free.
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