Being a colored woman the past few centuries was the equivalent to suffocation. Singing and dancing and writing diffused her voice towards the nineteenth century American audience which gifted a chance for young women to discover a new light, a foreign term: hope.
Maya Angelou was the unloved woman who toiled through chores tirelessly, yet through such lonesome, she erupted strength for the young. By boring a hole in her heart, she illuminates power over men as she heaves the universe's spectrum of emotions
Liberation is the symbol of Angelou.
They stomped on dirt and she rose like the dust storm.
Gashed her with the blade, she only bled pride.
She consumed pride as the lion's wickedness swallowed its prey.
In the face of hatred, she wore her body passionately, effortlessly, and gracefully.
Gold infused her yard, you know?
The meaning of survival is Angelou who once stated, "A black person grows up in this country --and in many places--knowing that racism will be as familiar as salt to the tongue".
In the residence of complication, she not only prayed, but held the stars will doing so.
Mettle was her soul in which she silenced the culture of shame.
To the Phenomenal Woman, I am forever indebted to you, for an angel has touched us.
