January 1, 2017

I rise

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 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.

     ~ Maya Angelou

I give myself. I extend my hand. I offer my sweat to lift the chins of those who have kept their down for far too long; for those who get through he day to afford their survival.

I offer my gifts inspiring purposeful living.
I loudly brave my heart, bowing to the meaning through my art; i will lift you until you find some through your own.

I give my voice for those who have lost trust on its landing.

I will speak loudly for those whose hearts' whispers have been muffled by posturing speakerphones.

I give myself.

I give my humanity.
Though it's been tested and battered. My spirit stands taller than my bones.

I shall rise above the prostitution of integrity chose for the mirage of safety.

I shall rise above the reaction of fear and the intimidation against equality.

Noise cannot dampen my wings.
It will not disturb my peace.

This thunderous spirit will emerge to meet yours in our healing.

Love will overwhelm to the mind's doubt and to the heart's surmise.

I rise.

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