This twenty fifth post under the category ‘Canvas of self expressions’ is special. It is dedicated to Budugu, God’s favourite child. This is for all those moments of connections, honest conversations, madness, stupidity, and above all – love. This is for the woman that she is – strong, clear, passionate, deep rooted and brave. She may or may not know Maya Angelou. But every word in this poem reminds me of her. ‘Slave’ in this context is seen as the soul that carries the imprint of the human stain that life puts on all of us. I’m humbled and consider myself to be lucky to know someone like her. For no matter what happens, she rises. Always.
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
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.