Can ya’ll believe I created this image using ChatGPT? Lol
I love Maya Angelou’s poetry, but it is not what drew me to her. What drew me to Angelou first was her story.
When I read I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and discovered she had also written other collections of autobiographies, I was delighted by her strength and how it came out in her voice. I watched YouTube videos of her interviews and understood more about how she grew up and what led her down her path. Before Maya Angelou was one of my favorite poets, she became one of my favorite people.
The process of writing out my story on Substack has led me to question how much of what I like really belongs to me and what belongs to the world.
By the time I was born, Angelou was already 59 years old. Her name had already been carved into stone and printed inside the pages of history books. Before I was formed in my mother’s womb, Angelou had been crowned Queen.
But this isn’t really about the amazing Maya Angelou.
I am only using her as an example of how many of us drift through life as mirrors reflecting other people’s likes, passions, and preferences, not out of genuine love but habit.
Is that thing the rhythm in your soul, or is it simply the first thing whispered to you by a world that told you what to like before you liked yourself? Before you knew yourself?
Did you ever listen to that person’s music before they were your favorite artist? Did you ever trace the lyrics with your fingers or read the curve of a poet’s stanzas with your own eyes before you anointed them the best?
Did you ever actually feel the pulse of Angelou’s poetry beneath your skin? Felt her passion jump from the page to her throat and out of her mouth like the voice of many waters? Or do you carry her name like a badge, not because it speaks to you, but because it speaks to everyone else?
Have you ever wandered beyond the well-lit paths of fame into the quiet woods where lesser-known voices sing? Or, have you let the world define your taste, shaping your mind to match the music of the mainstream?
Do you like what you like because you like it or because you’ve been trained to like it?
He looked like a lifetime supply of confidence black-gold wrapped in a Hershey’s kiss like his soul had stretched up to the sun this melanin-plated skin When he shined, we were all shade Sweat looked like honey dripping from his brow forming sweet golden pools Look too closely, and he starts to look like a lightening his eyes two backpacks full of moon and we scatter like children looking for jars big enough to capture the illumination of his essence made up not of blood and bone but stars He looked like a lifetime supply of monuments a dark sun-kissed body full to the brim with uncompromising confidence.
The inspiration for this poem is from a poetry prompt I saw on IG on the topic of “He Looked Like a Lifetime Supply.”
I don’t usually post on Saturdays but on discovering a dear blogger friend’s death at the same time the world is mourning Earl “DMX” Simmons, a thought struck me.
“I just wish we could love people when they live the way we do when they die.”
As I scrolled through my LinkedIn page (and I am rarely on LinkedIn), I came across this post and was surprised to learn of Sue Vincent’s passing.
I know Sue from her promotional posts for authors and her generosity in opening up her space to give others time to shine. I’ve been featured on her blog a few times, and each time that we emailed, she was always welcoming to have me.
I feel sadness about Sue because I have not been as immersed in the blogging community as I used to be. My schedule is crazy these days, and I have not had the time to dedicate myself to my own blog, much less engage with others. On searching her name, I found tons of posts dedicated to her and posts she wrote about her illness. I am so very sorry for missing it all.
I also want to note that Sue was a poet, and with it being National Poetry Month, I dedicate this post to her honor.
As per the title of this post, I want to remind us to give people their flowers while they live.
If there is someone you appreciate or someone you love, or someone who has added value to your life in any way, I encourage you to make it known to them now.
Last June 2020 was the last time I saw my mother alive. I had taken a quick trip to Chicago to celebrate the life of another person I knew who had passed and stopped by my mom’s place. I was literally only passing through. My husband had to make a run, so I ended up staying with my mother for longer than I had anticipated.
At the time, I was irritated Moshe was taking so long to come back. I did not see how much of a blessing it was he took this run.
Before I left, I put a necklace on her neck that I had meant to ship but never got the chance to. As I snapped it on her, I kissed her cheek and left. This wasn’t out of the ordinary. It is something I did all the time, kiss her cheek and tell her I loved her. The difference this time is I didn’t know this would be the last time I would do it, as she would pass on in September.
I have been away from home since 2009, when we moved to Louisiana. I now live in Georgia, but most of my family still lives in Chicago. That said, I didn’t see my mom daily because we did not live in the same city. If I had not come to Chicago that June, the last memory I would have of her would have been December of 2019 when we celebrated her 60th, and unknown to us, her last birthday.
We never know when will be the last time we see or speak to someone, but we still take it for granted. We still treat each other like every day is promised. We still love people more in death than we do in life. We see this every time a celebrity passes.
I hope that one day this will change.
I hope that one day we will live with such immense gratitude that hindsight is no longer 20/20 because we will see things clearly at the moment.
What are you reading or re-reading for National Poetry Month? Here’s my list so far!
The Collected Poetry of Nikki Giovanni (1968 – 1998)
Maya Angelou Poems: Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water ‘Fore I Diiie, Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well, And Still I Rise, Shaker, Why Don’t You Sing?
If Only There Was Music : The Poetry of Forbidden Love by Nonnie Jules
We interrupt your regularly scheduled Author Interview programming for this special announcement.
National Poetry Month, a celebration of poetry which takes place each April, was introduced in 1996 and is organized by the Academy of American Poets as a way to increase awareness and appreciation of poetry in the U.S. For our April Author Interviews, I’d like to feature as many author poets as possible. If you have not been interviewed on the blog, head on over to the Introduce Yourself Author Interview page (linked below) and find out how you can get involved! Stay tuned for next weeks final author introduction for March.
*All authors are still welcomed to participate in the interviews. These interviews occur every week on Monday’s. You don’t have to be a poet. I would just like to feature poets for the month of April in honor of National Poetry Month.
It’s National Poetry Month and I am uploading audio videos of some of my poems to YouTube. I have taken them down from Soundcloud (as I am transitioning that page to an exclusive podcast page) and will be instead bringing them to YouTube. At this time I have five videos locked and loaded for you and will be adding more over time. So, if you would, please, welcome me back by subscribing to the channel and thanks so much for your support. (I’ve even done something I don’t usually do. I added hashtags to the headline. You see that? I’m being converted!)
I’ve also created a Facebook Group. Follow We Are Soul HERE(I am keeping this one)
Be sure to pick up your copy of I am Soul on Amazon here! A new review is in:
“The book is of discovery, healing and a slight political stance. It covers issues from simple being to issues of current affairs. It’s beautiful, soft and strong. From beginning to end the book is inspiring and reached into depths of my own inquisitive mind and soul.”
The PBS Blog 