Maya Angelou on... books

--For a person who grew up in the '30s and '40s in the segregated South, with so many doors closed without explanation to me, libraries and books said, "Here I am, read me." Over time I have learned I am at my best around books.--

                        Maya Angelou (on Facebook, Oct. 30. 2010)

Reading Mood

I've just finished reading The Help, by Kathryn Stockett and besides being beautifully written, it is as outstanding as unputdownable! I often found myself immersed in a "reading mood", if there is such thing, but the fact is that as soon as I started reading it, I had some trouble to stop.
The Help is the story of three amazing women - two African American maids working in white households in Jackson / Mississippi during the 1960s and a twenty-two year old graduate, daughter of a prominent white family who dreams of becoming a writer. In a time and place struggling with racial issues, The Help is a compelling, daring story of courage to cross boundaries. A must read, no doubt!
Inspired by this reading, here follows a poem by one of my favourite writers, guess who? Again Maya Angelou, an acclaimed American poet and a Civil Rights Activist.

www.achievement.org

            Million Man March Poem

The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn't even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You've worn a badge of shame.

I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.

But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery's chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.

The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.

I say, clap hands and let's come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let's deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let's leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.

And still we rise.

 Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou

Forty-three years ago, Martin Luther King, the famous civil rights leader, was assassinated but, on this day, though in 1928, another great civil rights activist and poet was born: Maya Angelou.
I'll leave you with this poem - one among many others I like - but do read this one on being born... black!

STILL I RISE

Image Credit
http://mayaangelou.com/bio/

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.

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.

MAYA ANGELOU http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/still-i-rise/

So??? What do you think about this poem? Do you like Maya Angelou's writing? Can you suggest other poems?
If you wish to have a look or buy her books, click here.