#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters #FemaleWriters #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
If my sorrow were deeper I’d be, along with you, under the ocean’s floor; but today I learn that the oil that pools beneath the ocean floor
Let other leaders Retire To play golf & write Memoirs
You confide in me that you are lonely,
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
Expect nothing. Live frugally On surprise. become a stranger To need of pity Or, if compassion be freely
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
Word reaches us that you are sleeping, sleeping. Dismayed we have turned to the sea. We encounter among others
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.
Reminding us, as they witnessed our curiosity about them, that no matter the losses, there’s something fabulous going on at every stage of Life, something to let go of, maybe, but for d...
Look into her eyes and know: She does not think
Don’t be like those who ask for ev… praise, a blurb, a free ride in my… limousine. They ask for everything… anything in return. Be like those who can see that my…
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
If I was President The first thing I would do is call Mumia Abu—Jamal. No, if I was president