#AmericanWriters #BlackWriters #FemaleWriters #PulitzerPrize #XIXCentury #XXCentury
I said to Poetry:"I’m finished with you." Having to almost die before some wierd light comes creeping through
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
The tree of life has fallen on my small house. I thought it was so much bigger! But it is not. There in the distance I see the m…
How can Humanity look the deer in the face? How can I,
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
Knowing you might some day come and how unprepared I’ve always been like Mr. Sloppy in Charles Dickens’
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...
She is the one who will notice that the first snapdragon of Spring is
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
Look into her eyes and know: She does not think
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
I have a friend who is turning gray, not just her hair, and I do not know why this is so.
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.