I never met Maya Angelou but we would have been friends I often surmise.
I was not blessed to know her but I did witness her rise.
I admired the way her words sang to my heart…
words of her life her truth her fears…
and when I heard her recite her poetry it was music to my ears.
She did not have an easy life, she had her share of woes
but hope lifted her up and up and up…and she rose…oh how she rose.
She found during life’s hard winter the key to eternal spring
and when she felt like a caged bird she taught that bird to sing.
She would not let others tear her down.
She deflected hatred’s blows.
And somehow with a smile on her face
She rose…like the air…she rose.
She held her head up high as she walked proudly down the street.
She even learned to dance with diamonds on her thighs
despite people stepping on her feet.
How hard it must have been for her to be poetry in a world of prose.
but through her words and actions…
She rose…so high…she rose
I wish I would have met her
I would have told her how she glows…
How she gave my life more meaning
As she so magnificently rose.
I would have loved to be at her funeral.
I would have kept my eyes open…never closed.
I would have smiled as heaven called her
And she rose