A Brave and Startling Truth, Maya Angelou

A Brave And Startling Truth 

 

We, this people, on a small and lonely planet 

Traveling through casual space 

Past aloof stars, across the way of indifferent suns 

To a destination where all signs tell us 

It is possible and imperative that we learn 

A brave and startling truth 

And when we come to it 

To the day of peacemaking 

When we release our fingers 

From fists of hostility 

And allow the pure air to cool our palms 

 

***

 We, this people, on this small and drifting planet 

Whose hands can strike with such abandon 

That in a twinkling, life is sapped from the living 

Yet those same hands can touch with such healing, irresistible tenderness 

That the haughty neck is happy to bow 

And the proud back is glad to bend 

Out of such chaos, of such contradiction 

We learn that we are neither devils nor divines 

 

When we come to it 

We, this people, on this wayward, floating body 

Created on this earth, of this earth 

Have the power to fashion for this earth 

A climate where every man and every woman 

Can live freely without sanctimonious piety 

Without crippling fear 

 

When we come to it 

We must confess that we are the possible 

We are the miraculous, the true wonder of this world 

That is when, and only when 

We come to it.

 

~ Maya Angelou ~

 

 

 

(A Brave and Startling Truth)

 

We're They Hands Would They Flower, Rob Schlegel

Were They Hands Would They Flower   Rob Schlegel

Why are you grieving? Because the others are grieving. You are not compelled to grieve independently? The grass needs raking. The grass? The leaves. I will build a fence to keep them from the sea. Then will you help the others? Tollers ring bells even the dead can hear, a ringing such that I am bound to. And the leaves? When they are taken by the waves I give them names, desiring in this act a homecoming to which I am constantly denied on account of other people’s prayers.

Still I Rise, Maya Angelou

Still I Rise   Maya Angelou

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

Dirty Face, Shel Silverstein

Dirty Face

BY SHEL SILVERSTEIN

Where did you get such a dirty face,

My darling dirty-faced child?

 

I got it from crawling along in the dirt

And biting two buttons off Jeremy's shirt.

I got it from chewing the roots of a rose

And digging for clams in the yard with my nose.

I got it from peeking into a dark cave

And painting myself like a Navajo brave.

I got it from playing with coal in the bin

And signing my name in cement with my chin.

I got if from rolling around on the rug

And giving the horrible dog a big hug.

I got it from finding a lost silver mine

And eating sweet blackberries right off the vine.

I got it from ice cream and wrestling and tears

And from having more fun than you've had in years.

Forever Oneness, Bee Lake

Forever Oneness,

who sings to us in silence,

who teaches us through each other.

Guide my steps with strength and wisdom.

May I see the lessons as I walk,

honor the Purpose of all things.

Help me touch with respect,

always speak from behind my eyes. 

Let me observe, not judge.

May I cause no harm,

and leave music and beauty after my visit.

When I return to forever

may the circle be closed

and the spiral be broader.

 

 ~ Bee Lake ~

 

(an Aboriginal poet)

Sea and Rain: Lake Michigan, Keith Taylor

Sea and Rain: Lake Michigan   Keith Taylor

after James McNeill Whistler, 1865 There is a dance at water’s edge, a movement between the lake, its sand and the horizon where lake becomes cloud. Between those lines our world’s a thin wash of muted tones, beige and gray with a hint of white, almost abstract, until the dancer steps out into the pool. She makes the whole thing real

Mindful, Mary Oliver

Mindful

Every day

I see or hear

something

that more or less

kills me

with delight,

that leaves me

like a needle

in the haystack

of light.

It was what I was born for -

to look, to listen,

to lose myself

inside this soft world -

to instruct myself

over and over

in joy,

and acclamation.

Nor am I talking

about the exceptional,

the fearful, the dreadful,

the very extravagant - 

but of the ordinary,

the common, the very drab,

the daily presentations.

Oh, good scholar,

I say to myself,

how can you help

but grow wise

with such teachings

as these -

the untrimmable light

of the world,

the ocean's shine,

the prayers that are made

out of grass?

~ Mary Oliver ~

 

(Why I Wake Early)