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STILL I RISE By Maya Angelou (1928 -2014)


Still I Rise
You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread 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

By Maya Angelou
(1928 -2014)

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LENSES

I struggled for too long Being who I wasn’t Fitting  my circle into other people's 
perfect squares -- into all their
expectations for me Their perception was all that mattered What they will see and say Their standard for success and achievement
I showed up acting who I wasn’t Like a dancing monkey under obligations to perform magic To gain their recognition and affirmations for being who I wasn’t Against being Me
I broke the chains and gained freedom the day I stopped looking at myself through other people’s lenses because I discovered people wore lenses tinted and shaded to suit them not Me
All Rights Reserved © Stella C. Obokoh 2019

WHO EXACTLY

Housed in a container Moved in it Identified by its aesthetics But sometimes lost in it Who exactly am I the container or the content
Sometimes I try so hard to figure exactly what it is about this combo Sometimes complicating other times compelling sometimes conflicting other times cooperating
Influenced by the countless conversations with  the inner and the  outer the seen and the unseen the known and the unknown Then I discover It goes beyond this container there is something about content
As adorned as this container maybe embellished with so much beauty the content remains the substance that give it credibility Beyond the container that interacts is the content that keeps the flow is the content that leaves  memorable impacts
All Rights Reserved © Stella C. Obokoh 2018