I wrote this poem because I love nature, not just flowers, but the beauty of it all, and what it does to me. When I was very little, I noticed when I was outside observing, I would make little or…

I wrote this poem one glorious spring day in April 1979. At the time, I was young, and things seemed to be looking up for me. I had just won the Civil Rights case that guaranteed access to higher education…

One day in 1979, as feelings from my past reminded me of who and what I was, I wrote this poem. The day I wrote it was not ordinary, not like every other day. That day, for some reason, memory…

This poem was written in 2020, about a friend who disappeared from my life. It was during the COVID-19 pandemic, and I had fallen. Broke my wrist. The doctor could not set it in a cast. It was that serious…

In 1985, at the end of a long day, I wrote this poem as that long day settled into dusk. I had been searching for calm and balance my whole life, and in the hours before me, I prayed and…

I wrote this poem in the summer of 1983. A few miles’ drive from my house, I sat down on a bench, alone. I needed time for myself. Looking and wondering, I waited for a bit, surrounded by swings and…

It was the winter of 1983—the coldest one ever. Then spring and summer came and went. And through the seasons, extreme sadness gripped me. Life would not give me a break. It kept throwing curve balls. One after another, they…