#Americans #Blacks #PulitzerPrize #Women #XIXCentury #XXCentury
Before I leave the stage I will sing the only song I was meant truly to sing. It is the song of I AM.
When they torture your mother plant a tree When they torture your father plant a tree When they torture your brother
If my sorrow were deeper I’d be, along with you, under the ocean’s floor; but today I learn that the oil that pools beneath the ocean floor
Going out to the garden this morning to plant seeds for my winter greens —the strong, fiery mustard
Did you ever understand this? If my spirit was poor, how could… Was I depressed? Understanding editing, I see how a comma, removed or inse…
I will keep Broken things: The big clay Pot
I Sing of Mumia brilliant and strong and of the captivity that few black men escape
My brothers knew The things you know. I did not scorn learning them; It’s just my mind
When you see water in a stream you say: oh, this is stream water; When you see water in the river you say: oh, this is water
When the people have won a victory whether small or large do you ever wonder
You confide in me that you are lonely,
If I was President The first thing I would do is call Mumia Abu—Jamal. No, if I was president
Remember When we ended It all —for a weekend— & how
When you thought me poor, my poverty was shaming. When blackness was unwelcome we found it best that I stay home.