Read Online Celebrations by Maya Angelou - Free Book Online Page B

the lonely
    Continue
    To put the mantel of your protection
    Around the bodies of
    The young and defenseless
    Continue
    To take the hand of the despised
    And diseased and walk proudly with them
    In the high street
    Some might see you and
    Be encouraged to do likewise
    Continue
    To plant a public kiss of concern
    On the cheek of the sick
    And the aged and infirm
    And count that as a
    Natural action to be expected
    Continue
    To let gratitude be the pillow
    Upon which you kneel to
    Say your nightly prayer
    And let faith be the bridge
    You build to overcome evil
    And welcome good
    Continue
    To ignore no vision
    Which comes to enlarge your range
    And increase your spirit
    Continue
    To dare to love deeply
    And risk everything
    For the good thing
    Continue
    To float
    Happily in the sea of infinite substance
    Which set aside riches for you
    Before you had a name
    Continue
    And by doing so
    You and your work
    Will be able to continue
    Eternally
    HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

SONS AND
DAUGHTERS

WRITTEN FOR THE
CHILDREN’S DEFENSE FUND
    If my luck is bad
    And his aim is straight
    I will leave my life
    On the killing field
    You can see me die
    On the nightly news
    As you settle down
    To your evening meal.
    But you’ll turn your back
    As you often do
    Yet I am your sons
    And your daughters too.
    In the city streets
    Where the neon lights
    Turn my skin from black
    To electric blue
    My hope soaks red
    On the gray pavement
    And my dreams die hard
    For my life is through.
    But you’ll turn your back
    As you often do
    Yet I am your sons
    And your daughters too.
    In the little towns
    Of this mighty land
    Where you close your eyes
    To my crying need
    I strike out wild
    And my brother falls
    Turn on your news
    You can watch us bleed.
    In morgues I’m known
    By a numbered tag
    In clinics and jails
    And junkyards too
    You deny my kin
    Though I bear your name
    For I am a part
    Of mankind too.
    But you’ll turn your back
    As you often do
    Yet I am your sons
    And your daughters too.
    Turn your face to me
    Please
    Let your eyes seek my eyes
    Lay your hand upon my arm
    Touch me. I am real as flesh
    And solid as bone.
    I am no metaphor
    I am no symbol
    I am not a nightmare
    To vanish with the dawn
    I am lasting as hunger
    And certain as midnight.
    I claim that no council nor committee
    Can contain me
    Nor fashion me to its whim.
    You, come here, hunch with me in this dingy doorway,
    Face with me the twisted mouth threat
    Of one more desperate
    And better armed than I.
    Join me again at today’s dime store counter
    Where the word to me
    Is still no.
    Let us go, your shoulder,
    Against my shoulder,
    To the new picket line
    Where my color is still a signal
    For brutes to spew their bile
    Like spit in my eye.
    You, only you, who have made me
    Who share this tender taunting history with me
    My fathers and mothers
    Only you can save me
    Only you can order the tides,
    That rush my heart, to cease
    Stop expanding my veins
    Into red riverlets.
    Come, you my relative
    Walk the forest floor with me
    Where rampaging animals lurk,
    Lusting for my future
    Only if your side is by my side
    Only if your side is by my side
    Will I survive.
    But you’ll probably turn your back
    As you often do
    Yet I am your sons
    And your daughters too.

WHEN GREAT
TREES FALL

Dedicated to Bernice Johnson Reagon
of Sweet Honey in the Rock
    When great trees fall,
    rocks on distant hills shudder,
    lions hunker down
    in tall grasses,
    and even elephants
    lumber after safety.
    When great trees fall
    in forests,
    small things recoil into silence,
    their senses
    eroded beyond fear.
    When great souls die,
    the air around us becomes
    light, rare, sterile.
    We breathe briefly.
    our eyes, briefly,
    see with
    a hurtful clarity.
    Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
    examines,
    gnaws on kind words
    unsaid,
    promised walks
    never taken.
    Great souls die and
    our reality, bound to
    them, takes leave of us.
    Our souls,
    dependent upon their
    nurture,
    now shrink, wizened.
    Our minds, formed
    and informed by