Thursday, November 13, 2014

November 13: Poem for Dave, Maya Angelou, "Still I Rise"

Tonight, after receiving the news of my friend's death, I thought of Maya Angelou's poem "Still I Rise."

On the day that Angelou died, I was driving home from work, listening to a tribute on National Public Radio.  The segment ended with Dr. Angelou reciting this poem.  As her voice filled my car, I was overcome.  I started sobbing.  Eventually, I had to pull over to the side of the road until I collected myself.

I will never forget that afternoon, and Angelou saying those last lines of her poem, like a victory chant, with joy and determination.  I rise.

Saint Marty dedicates this poem tonight to Dave.

Still I Rise

by:  Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.


Amen, Dr. Angelou

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