This morning he called to announce your death, Dr. Angelou

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This morning he called to announce your death But to me, Dr. A, you are quite alive still Your poems, they speak Of love, loss, and learning And – more important, perhaps – of forgiving and persevering Your words, like gentle whispers, reminding me “I am woman, phenomenally” Ain’t I? You said that life is a great teacher, the world a classroom And I, the forever student, am living Racking up degrees while creating my history Honorary titles and accolades may never be conveyed, but Dr. A., still I rise Allowing my untold story to reveal itself And you, you will live forever in the words – reverberating soul music – “life as art.” I’ll remember, “daring to dare,” that my mission, like yours is “not merely to survive, but to thrive; and to do so with some passion, some compassion, some humor, and some style.” . . .

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