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“You alone are enough. You have nothing to anybody”–Maya Angelou

I expected her to go on forever. Really, that voice, the voice that contained and spanned centuries, My students don’t understand the need to go interior when a role model passes, and don’t fully understand why I foisted Maya Angelou’s poems on them today, detouring from our intended path to discuss her tremendous gifts.

One of the great sacrifices we make, living in the woods, is that we miss the opportunities to see our “guides”, because guides they are, in person, and if I thought Dr. Angelou would tolerate it, I would deeply regret that I’d never seen her read. I’ve read her though, and we have her voice still, and I doubt very much that she holds much truck in regret.

Watch her dance! This clip is from 1957, and the lesson that follows in a big one:

And this, on the power of words:

and this one, on gratitude:

I could post these all day, but instead I will write a poem in deep homage to a woman who moved. 

Thank You, Dr. Calypso

Our Calypso’s mama followed her en route with the pistol in the passenger’s seat, because Mama knows, it’s tough out there, for a siren. On a Streetcar named Pure Courage she called us in. I am sad you are gone, Calypso. I’ll miss your voice that contains centuries, you phenom, you, and rue this country life that kept me from your concerts, so that I’m forced to watch you on youtube, enchantress with the keen eyesight and dark sunglasses. I suspect you’d brook no truck with regret. Thank you for the lessons, on just about it all. Thank you, Calypso, for showing us the cage and bending back the bars, for singing only the true notes, for swinging those hips, woman, thank you for the dance.

Our ship, guided by gusts, will seek you, a cosmic game of Marco Polo, we will call to you and stand listening in the spray to your voice as it calling back from the all.

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okay. in true homage I would’ve spent more time on this one, and written in rhyming stanzas like she did, but it’s Wednesday, Whiny, Whiny, Tired Wednesday again, and I’m just going to have to fix it later. Dr. Angelou wouldn’t mind, I don’t think. Goodnight.

 

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