I do things with words

the mothering blackness

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells

Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like hopes springing high,

Still I’ll rise.


Extract of Still I Rise from 

The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou (1994). 

Copyright © 1978 by Maya Angelou. 

You should read the whole poem here

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