PoemMillion Man March Poem
Author / PoetMaya Angelou
TagsCenturies, Freedom, Night, Poem

The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

Under a dead blue sky on a distant beach,
I was dragged by my braids just beyond your reach.
Your hands were tied, your mouth was bound,
You couldn’t even call out my name.
You were helpless and so was I,
But unfortunately throughout history
You’ve worn a badge of shame.

I say, the night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark
And the walls have been steep.

But today, voices of old spirit sound
Speak to us in words profound,
Across the years, across the centuries,
Across the oceans, and across the seas.
They say, draw near to one another,
Save your race.
You have been paid for in a distant place,
The old ones remind us that slavery’s chains
Have paid for our freedom again and again.

The night has been long,
The pit has been deep,
The night has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.

The hells we have lived through and live through still,
Have sharpened our senses and toughened our will.
The night has been long.
This morning I look through your anguish
Right down to your soul.
I know that with each other we can make ourselves whole.
I look through the posture and past your disguise,
And see your love for family in your big brown eyes.

I say, clap hands and let’s come together in this meeting ground,
I say, clap hands and let’s deal with each other with love,
I say, clap hands and let us get from the low road of indifference,
Clap hands, let us come together and reveal our hearts,
Let us come together and revise our spirits,
Let us come together and cleanse our souls,
Clap hands, let’s leave the preening
And stop impostering our own history.
Clap hands, call the spirits back from the ledge,
Clap hands, let us invite joy into our conversation,
Courtesy into our bedrooms,
Gentleness into our kitchen,
Care into our nursery.

The ancestors remind us, despite the history of pain
We are a going-on people who will rise again.

And still we rise.

Maya Angelou
Maya Angelou
4 Apr 1928 - 28 May 2014
Region: North America
Period: Contemporary
Movement: Black Arts Movement
Awards: Grammy Awards, National Medal of Arts, Presidential Medal of Freedom

more poems by Maya Angelou

Poem NameTopic
The Week of DianaColor, Crown, Humor
The Rock Cries Out To Us TodayDarkness, Destiny, Floor
The TravellerHome, Night, Store
The Black Family PledgeAncestor, Children, Cry
When I Think About MyselfFolk, Joke, Lying
When Great Trees FallBloom, Die, Fall
We Had HimMoon, Style, Summer
They Went HomeHip, Home, Lip
These Yet To Be United StatesAnger, Curse, Fear
Son to MotherIgnorance, Land, Soul

all poems by Maya Angelou

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