Maya Angelou

Hanging softly over the black Singer sewing machine, it looked like magic

He took extreme care to prove that statement true by taking the word of his family even in the face of contradictory evidence.

Hate often is confused. Its
Limits are in zones beyond itself.

The Traveler

Byways and bygone
And lone nights long
Sun rays and sea waves
And star and stone

Manless and friendless
No cave my home
This is my torture
My long nights, lone

Kin

FOR BAILEY

We were entwined in red rings
Of blood and loneliness before
The first snows fell

And every baby crying
Shame the blanket of my night
And all my days are dying

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.

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise

Black like the hour of the night
When your love turns and wriggles close to your side
Black as the earth which has given birth
To nations, and when all else is gone will abide.