Rex mayor Ubini
Maya Angelou Who Now Rest In Elysium
Since my breath was tender,
Words sublime had always date my ticker.
But from a season not marked,
When one began to ferret for its seed of time,
Like a hen
Scattering sands for grain to grind,
I indulged in the whoredom of dreams groping to find,
The me of me; the reason I'm me.
The relationship began to wither
Like the leaves of plants,
Until my eyes stumble on your arts.
The eloquent tone of your prints
My ears kissed with my eyes.
And I wonder, what manner of woman is,
And was a black mother Maya.
Should one believe in the myth
Of the nine muses — Calliope, Clio,
Euterpe, Melpomene, Erato,
Terpsichore, Polyhymnia, Thalia and Urania,
The daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne,
Who preside over arts and sciences;
Perhaps, one sojourn on our planet floor,
In the form of Maya!
Who brought the gifts the Creator gave to Africa.
Your lips soothed our ears
Your dance washed the blood of slavery from our eyes
Your words healed our hearts
Your drum beat out for our freedom
Thanks to God who gave us our heroine.
Maya Angelou who now rest in elysium.
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