Exceptional Inspired by Maya Angelou's poem, Still I Rise Echoes of Artistry : Hear My Voice by ~Dovey

I'm the child that was left behind; though, not bereft by your choice, once I was yours; another time. When will you hear my voice? Like a flower breaking asphalt; I will rise up from my roots, I'll not be fragile or broken, for there is life in my shoots. I'll answer my questions; find strength and meaning in words. Do you seek my answers? I'll be heard. Did you live in mansions of gold? Was my presence deferred? If at random we meet, will the street be washed by tears, eyes blurred? Were you afraid of poverty? Love is so much more than coin, my fortune has been knowing love, as adoption did enjoin. I survived abandonment; was the stork our only bird? Was our only tie umbilical; is it enough to gird? Will you pay heed to my message? It's so important it's heard; to reflect the attributes of glass, to be transparent, not slurred. From an inception sans history, I'm heard. Though my beginning's a mystery, I'm heard. I'm the light from the shadows inside, my words are power, the stallion I ride. Swift and impactful, it's with clarity I'm heard, truth on offer, with deep sincerity; I'm heard. The past is the past, I've forged on ahead; echoed my life in the rhymes of the dead. I'm heard I'm heard I'm heard.   Recognized Author Notes This picture is me and was taken this past Saturday evening as I participated in my first poetry reading. Maya Angelou has been a tremendous voice for all women, especially for women of color. I wanted to include her in this book because she was such a prolific woman and has made a great impact on society with her words. While I can't begin to relate to the struggles of her ancestors or speak to her life, I offer you my thoughts on my beginnings. A life built, not of privilege, but from the love of an adoptive family and the determination to make my own mark, where my past has been purloined. This poem is specifically to Mary Ann Johnson... I'm sure you are out there somewhere, or once were... as to the rest, I may never have a clue, as your name is all I know. (She was my birth mother.) I included a snippet of Maya's bio below... of particular interest to me was her given name. Such are the ironies of life. :) Kim ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm much more comfortable in my own rhyme schemes, but here I've attempted hers, in tribute to Maya Angelou. From And Still I Rise by Maya Angelou. Copyright Ã??Ã?© 1978 by Maya Angelou. Bio excerpt from Wikipedia: Maya Angelou, who was born Marguerite Annie Johnson; (April 4, 1928 - May 28, 2014) was an American poet, memoirist, and civil rights activist. She published seven autobiographies, three books of essays, several books of poetry, and was credited with a list of plays, movies, and television shows spanning over 50 years. She received dozens of awards and more than 50 honorary degrees.[3] Angelou is best known for her series of seven autobiographies, which focus on her childhood and early adult experiences. The first, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969), tells of her life up to the age of 17 and brought her international recognition and acclaim. Read more about her: www.mayaangelou.com Still I Rise Maya Angelou, 1928 - 2014 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 backyard. 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.

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