Give Me Your Hand

Maya Angelou died today at the age of 86. A friend of mine posted A Conceit, one of her poems, online, and it’s small and lovey. It begins:

Give me your hand

Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

This poem makes me think of an essay I read by Mary Karr called Facing Altars: Poetry and Prayer. In it she writes:

From a very early age, when I read a poem, it was as if the poet’s burning taper touched some charred filament in my rib cage to set me alight. Somehow—long before I’d published—that connection even extended from me outward. Lifting my face from the page, I often faced my fellow creatures with less dread. Maybe secreted in one of them was an ache or tenderness similar to the one I’d just eaten of.

Which makes me think of all that Angelou has done with her witness and her words to connect us and change us for the better. Rest in Peace.

You can read the full poem here.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s