Dr. Maya has not fallen silent ~ death gives her voice
the power of perpetuity.
She has joined the ancestors.
Now she, too, can be everywhere all at once.
She and my mother, Irene Gaines Jones, were born on April 4th.
My mother was 2 when Maya was born.
Dr. King was assassinated on their birthday in 1968.
My homage to The Great Lady, Maya Angelou:
Untitled.one (poem)
I was a well-behaved colored girl, easy to get along with. My militance was undetectable.
I became an articulate Negro. No need to cringe or be afraid when I spoke. And I was (am) only too loud sometimes.
I am a creative African-American, having my way with words. I adapt to any situation. I love to dance, my cooking is above average and I only talk in the movie house when it’s absolutely necessary.
I provide opportunity. For diversity. I give permission. It is said I pave the way—still—for others to follow.
I am often a black onyx island in an alabaster sea.
Floating, observing, I am just like you: we are born of our skin and not confined nor defined by it.
We are descendents of the world’s heinous history and the world’s boundless beauty.
Together ~ let us cry and laugh; let us dive and soar.
~ agj 2014
Keep scrolling for photo gallery ~
She will be present I am sure people like her cant go just like that She was a LADY
She didn’t get under your skin but had the ability to seep into your pores and inspire you from within.
She didn’t lift you up but raised your dreams to be more than what you had been told were your limitations.
She didn’t dance to the drum of anyone but her own and her movement her song made you want to discover your own.
She was a wizard, a magician, a prophet, a dreamer of dreams who inspired you to want to be the same . . . shaman
You are so right Please excuse my poor English
Oh my goodness, what a confluence of date, Anita. Gorgeous bird/text and wonderful quote illustrating how Angelou lived up to her desire. And beautiful poem…I love the different perspectives reflecting the eras of perception and the build to your ode of an end. We will soon live in a world in which all the hues of skin will be as appreciated as the colors of eyes. Thank you for your beautiful tribute. I’m glad to have been raised on Angelou and that she lived so long and wrote so much. And her passing is sad but not as glorious as her brave articulate life.