Glory falls around us
as
we sob
a
dirge of
desolation
on the Cross
and
hatred is the ballast of
the
rock
which
his upon our necks
and
underfoot.
We
have woven
robes
of silk
and
clothed our nakedness
with
tapestry.
From
crawling on this
murky
planet's floor
we
soar beyond the
birds
and
through
the clouds
and
edge our waays from hate
and
blind despair and
bring
horror
to
our brothers, and to our sisters cheer.
We
grow despite the
horror
that we feed
upon
our own
tomorrow.
We
grow.
by Maya Angelou
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