maya

that bird upon my sill

o what silly one is he

so much he sings in that trumpet voice

in morning’s glory when all is still

o what silly one is he

for nobody hears his revelry

that song with no answers he sings

o but wait, the sun, there is she

rising there, quietly

yet not one glance he gives

in his confident rise

This week has been a difficult yet I hope, eye opening one for us all. A few days ago a fellow writer triggered my thoughts in asking “who was your first black teacher?” This piece was inspired by a poet I was introduced to in the fourth grade by my very first black teacher, Mrs. Baker.

It is always my English teachers that stand out to me during my school years and she is no exception. She introduced us to the works of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson and the poet from which this piece is inspired, Maya Angelou. Inspired from her piece, And Still I Rise, I wrote maya reflecting upon that silly yet wise bird in us all with that small, seemingly insignificant voice, yet finding the courage to keep singing, even when you are pretty certain no one is listening.

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