In the bigger scheme of things the universe is not asking us to do something, the universe is asking us to be something. And that's a whole different thing.
We cannot create what we can't imagine.
What they call you is one thing. What you answer to is something else.
Come celebrate with me that every day something has tried to kill me and has failed.
Say it clear, and it will be beautiful.
I write from my knowledge not my lack, from my strength not my weakness. I am not interested if anyone knows whether or not I am familiar with big words, I am interested in trying to render big ideas in a simple way. I am interested in being understood not admired.
Poetry is a matter of life, not just a matter of language.
You might as well answer the door, my child, the truth is furiously knocking.
Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.
I do not feel inhibited or bound by what I am. That does not mean that I have never had bad scenes relating to being Black and/or a woman, it means that other people’s craziness has not managed to make me crazy.
We need new words for what this is, this hunger entering our loneliness like birds, stunning our eyes into rays of hope. we need the flutter that can save us, something that will swirl across the face of what we have become and bring us grace.
I think that were beginning to remember that the first poets didn't come out of a classroom, that poetry began when somebody walked off of a savanna or out of a cave and looked up at the sky with wonder and said, "Ahhh." That was the first poem.
Even when the universe made it quite clear to me that I was mistaken in my certainties ... I did not break. The shattering of my sureties did not shatter me.
they ask me to remember but they want me to remember their memories and I keep on remembering mine
Poems come out of wonder, not out of knowing.
the lesson of the falling leaves the leaves believe such letting go is love such love is faith such faith is grace such grace is god i agree with the leaves
won't you celebrate with me what i have shaped into a kind of life? i had no model. born in babylon both nonwhite and woman what did i see to be except myself? i made it up here on this bridge between starshine and clay, my one hand holding tight my other hand; come celebrate with me that everyday something has tried to kill me and has failed.
Things don't fall apart. Things hold. Lines connect in thin ways that last and last and lives become generations made out of pictures and words just kept.
don’t write out of what I know; I write out of what I wonder. I think most artists create art in order to explore, not to give the answers. Poetry and art are not about answers to me; they are about questions.
may you kiss the wind then turn from it certain that it will love your back
All people, even one's own children, come with baggage. When they're little, you have to help them carry it. But when they grow up, you have to do that difficult thing of setting their baggage down and taking up your own again.
Intellect doesn't translate across cultures; intuition does.
People wish to be poets more than they wish to write poetry, and that's a mistake. One should wish to celebrate more than one wishes to be celebrated.
these hips have never been enslaved, they go where they want to go they do what they want to do. these hips are mighty hips. these hips are magic hips
The end of a thing, is never the end, something is always being born like a year of a baby.
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