This piece honors one of my favorite poets, Maya Angelou, literary legend and civil rights activist. As a black woman she endured profound racism and discrimination, experiences so far outside my own that they seem almost otherworldly.
We have little in common, save for being women and loving poetry. Yet her voice, at once defiant and resilient, lifts me like an old friend.
After suffering sexual abuse as a child, Maya fell silent for five years. When her voice reemerged, it was as fierce as a supernova and as boundless as the cosmos.
Excerpts from “Still I rise”
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod 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.
