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I was going to write with haste, knowing exactly what I wanted to say.

But as time passed I wondered if I really did.

I was taught to think before I speak because I should mean what I say, even if it takes a week and the heat of the banter has passed away.

Do I need this long to ponder the words? I know what inspiration was inspired by this woman, in my heart, in my thoughts, I know.

I can’t recall the first time I heard her name or if I’ve read every book she’s written.

What stayed with me was the feeling of being connected to the spirit in her words and the honesty in her laugh fluttering through my ear, embedding itself in my memory.

Maya Angelou

So many poems I wrote thinking of her.

Tried to follow the natural flow of the words, pulling it like a string of emotion from my heart, filling my pages with the intention and purpose and joy and ease for storytelling that she had.

Words find every writer in a different way. She found words in the deep echo of silence. I found words in the blank slate that is darkness.

Sometimes I feel my consciousness as a writer is separated with ‘before’ and ‘after’ I was introduced to Maya Angelou’s work. Before her, I loved to write simply for the joy I found in words. After her, I wanted to be a writer and saw myself as one.

She is the embodiment of Marianne Williamson’s quote:

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

—Marianne Williamson

I cannot fully express the great respect and fondness I have for this woman, even having never met her, or the true pure admiration you can have for someone that comes without jealousy or greed.

I would have to splash my tears onto the computer screen so when you read this you would see it sliding down to make you understand. Can you see it?

Silly girl. She would probably advise you to tie your head for your brain seems to be leaking out.

She was a girl once. Hit with more than her share of troubles and abuse at a young age but she found a way to prevail and become one of the greatest writers of her time.

Her death makes me sad not just to lose her presence but for the injustices against her and so many other girls like her who are merely used and thrown into the wind, by people who are willing to go to any means to stop a changing world.

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No nation that ignores their most precious resource, their children,  ALL of them, can ever see their way right.

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These girls will suffer but among them we will find, a ‘Maya’.

One who uses the hardships she has been handed and turns them into a device for healing herself and others.

We have yet to see this girl but she will make herself known as time progresses. We will hear her song of courage and strength deep from a hidden place and she will free herself and rise through the medium of her choosing.

To tell the world, I will not let this trauma destroy my spirit and I will not be forgotten. I will rise and make a difference. This girl can be so much more than a cause to protest for.

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Let Maya Angelou’s accomplishments in life be a reminder as to what this wounded girl can become if she is saved.

I think it is fitting the way Maya Angelou left this world. With little fanfare or prolonged sensationalism over her illness. She quietly passed out, just the way she came in.

Leaving behind a feathery trail of words, her legacy for us to ponder on forever. If you look to the sky you will see her. Never again a caged bird and ever a phenomenal woman!

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– Written by Travesaou

Copyright © 2010-2015 Critics May Lie All Rights Reserved

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