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Poem 3 - Still I Rise - by Maya Angelou (Sem IV)




You have the ability to shape how history remembers me with your hurtful, warped lies. You have the power to walk all over me, crushing me into the dirt itself. But even so, I will rise up from the ground just as dust rises from the earth.
Does my bold and cheeky attitude offends you? Why are you so miserable? Maybe it's because of the confident way I walk as if I had oil wells right in my living room.
I am like the moon and the sun, the rises of which are as inevitable as the rise of ocean tides. Just like high hopes, I will keep rising.
Were you hoping to see me looking sad and defeated? Did you want to see me in a submissive posture, with my head bent and eyes looking down rather than up at you? Did you want to see my shoulders slouching down in the same way that tears fall down, my body having been weakened by all my intense sobbing?
Is my pride making you mad? Are you so upset because I am so happy and joyful that it seems as though I must have gold mines in my own backyard?
You have the ability to shoot at me with your words, which are like bullets. You have the ability to cut me with your sharp glare. You may even kill me with your hatred. Nevertheless, just as the air keeps rising, I will keep rising.
Does my sex appeal makes you upset? Are you taken aback by the fact that I dance as though I have precious gems between my legs?
I rise up out of history's shameful act of slavery. I rise up from this deeply painful past. I am as vast and full of power as a dark ocean that rises and swells and carries in the tide.
I rise up, and in doing so leave behind all the darkness of terror and fear. I rise up, and in doing so enter a bright morning that is full of joyful wonder. With the personal qualities and grace I inherited from my ancestors, I embody the dreams and hopes of past enslaved peoples. I will rise, and rise, and rise.
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