One Poem at a Time

Maya Angelou dropped by
to see me and my dog.
She appeared without warning
and decided to stay for tea;
remarked upon my dog's energy,
his warmth and love for me;
admired his irrepressibility,
his resilience and loyalty.

She talked about self-worth despite setbacks,
responding in the face of opposition or ridicule,
being determined to rise from a place of pain
with dignity and grace and style.

I learned about the gathering of her spirits,
of those people who supported her in life,
the past holding her up with their encouragement,
family and friends in a tidal wave of goodwill.

Then we listened to her poem …
loved her rendition of And Still I Rise,
the sassy way she performed each line,
the depth of feeling in the message.

My dog became Maya’s black, rolling ocean,
leaping and free, elemental and boisterous,
unlimited and beautiful,
welling and smelling
and swelling with pride.

This dog is my heart, I said.
There is no love for me like his.

She smiled.

After we drank the tea and ate crumpets,
we rose and went outside with all her friends and family.
We walked across fields together, through woods, over hills
while my dog ran for sticks, sniffed trees, played in the breeze.

We listened to birds, flying freely by hedgerows,
until finally the others were no longer with us
and Maya also said goodbye.
Then, as mysteriously as she’d arrived,
she faded and disappeared,

to make the world a better place,

one poem at a time …