When I have very full busy weeks like this one, my brain can go into a bit of a tailspin and I often find it hard to focus on one thing at a time as I have so much to do. I’m not sure if this is a quirk of me, or the same for most people, as we all have so much to juggle in our daily lives. For me, any kind of order goes out of the window and chaos ensues.
In times like these, though it has taken me a while, I am finally learning to stop - temporarily at least. And my “go-to happy place” when I do stop is reading poetry and lyrics. Immersing myself in beautifully written words is so soothing for me, and if I'm really lucky I become inspired to write some of my own.
I can’t quite articulate why it felt right to post this poem by Maya Angelou today, but it just did.
I have many music, motherhood and Parry type ramblings coming your way over the next few weeks, but for now enjoy the power of Ms Angelou…
Still I rise - Maya Angelou
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 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.