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.
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From guest Jan (contact)
The great women who inspired me with her poems and when i was in the dark and i read her poem she broueht light to my heart and to my sight now i can say i am a true poet. I am 13 years old and with my eyes reading her poems i will continue my journey as a succesful woman. -
From guest Sylvia Durham (contact)
Dr. Angelou's legacy speaks as she lives on. We are all blessed to have such an accomplisher, role model, a jewel, and an angel present among us. We love you Dr. Angelou. -
The Million Man March
From guest Qunay Huff (contact)
This lady has inspired me to be a writer....i love her poems and the way she makes people feel that they are her and can feel how she feels.....Im only 13 and i want to be a writer and i knows it for a fact...I LOVE Her! -
amazing
From guest shelbi Kusler (contact)
I thought the poem made me look down deap inside.It was a amazing poem -
A wonderful Poem - What can you say about Dr. Maya Angelou that hasn’t already be said, and said better.
Like William Shakespeare, Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King, Leonardo daVinci, Michael Angelo and many many more – I am convinced Maya Angelou has a soul that has been recycled through the centuries from the time of Christ and beyond – no one person could have become so wise and talented in just one lifetime – we should all be grateful that she was around in ours – Albert Gazeley
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Dr. Maya Angelou... A great human being. Great writer, actor, woman. Her writing brought a lot of hope or at least courage to her people. Amazing work. Her writing and poems hold so much power it is a privilege to be able to look upon them.
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your the girl keep up the good work
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A strong message of optimism. This is the message, the downtrodden people the world over carry in their hearts and minds and this is how they find the courage to face travails of life and surmount them.
krishna -
This lady has an amazing soul. She seem to speak not only for herself but for generations gone before her.
Amazing.
Von -
Rise where you were fallen
return the stare behind you
all that has gone
is now memory
all that will be
will be written
on the skins of ancestors
chipped into bones
scratched in the ashes
from the pens
reforged from our chains.
First time I have read her work, time will return me.
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