Just Give Me a Cool Drink of Water 'fore I Diiie (3 page)

I have waited

toes curled, hat rolled

heart and genitals

in hand

on the back porches

of forever

in the kitchens and fields

of rejections

on the cold marble steps

of America's White Out-House

in the drop seats of buses

and the open flies of war

No more

the dream that you

will cease haunting me

down in fetid swamps of fear

and will turn to embrace your own

humanity

which I AM

No more

The hope that

the razored insults

which mercury slide over your tongue

will be forgotten

and you will learn the words of love

Mother Brother Father Sister Lover Friend

My hopes

dying slowly

rose petals falling

beneath an autumn red moon

will not adorn your unmarked graves

My dreams

lying quietly

a dark pool under the trees

will not carry your name

to a forgetful shore

And what a pity

What a pity

That pity has folded in upon itself

an old man's mouth

whose teeth are gone

and I have no pity.

My guilt is “slavery's chains,” too long

the clang of iron falls down the years.

This brother's sold. This sister's gone

is bitter wax, lining my ears.

My guilt made music with the tears.

My crime is “heroes, dead and gone”

dead Vesey, Turner, Gabriel,

dead Malcolm, Marcus, Martin King.

They fought too hard, they loved too well.

My crime is I'm alive to tell.

My sin is “hanging from a tree”

I do not scream, it makes me proud.

I take to dying like a man.

I do it to impress the crowd.

My sin lies in not screaming loud.

He went to being called a Colored man

after answering to “hey nigger,”

Now that's a big jump,

anyway you figger,

  Hey, Baby, Watch my smoke.

From colored man to Negro

With the N in caps,

was like saying Japanese

instead of saying Japs.

  I mean, during the war.

The next big step

was a change for true,

From Negro in caps

to being a Jew.

  Now, Sing Yiddish Mama.

Light, Yellow, Brown

and Dark brown skin,

were o.k. colors to

describe him then,

  He was a Bouquet of Roses.

He changed his seasons

like an almanac,

Now you'll get hurt

if you don't call him “Black.”

  Nigguh, I ain't playin' this time.

I don't ask the Foreign Legion

Or anyone to win my freedom

Or to fight my battle better than I can,

Though there's one thing that I cry for

I believe enough to die for

That is every man's responsibility to man.

I'm afraid they'll have to prove first

that they'll watch the Black man move first

Then follow him with faith to kingdom come,

This rocky road is not paved for us,

So, I'll believe in Liberal's aid for us

When I see a white man load a Black man's gun.

Their hair, pomaded, faces jaded

bones protruding, hip-wise,

The models strutted, backed and butted,

Then stuck their mouths out, lip-wise.

They'd nasty manners, held like banners,

while they looked down their nose-wise,

I'd see 'em in hell, before they'd sell

me one thing they're wearing, clothes-wise.

The Black Bourgeois, who all say “yah”

When yeah is what they're meaning

Should look around, both up and down

before they set out preening.

“Indeed” they swear, “that's what I'll wear

When I go country-clubbing,”

I'd remind them please, look at those knees

you got a Miss Ann's scrubbing.

Your Momma took to shouting

Your Poppa's gone to war,

Your sister's in the streets

Your brother's in the bar,

The thirteens. Right On.

Your cousin's taking smack

Your Uncle's in the joint,

Your buddy's in the gutter

Shooting for his point

The thirteens. Right on.

And you, you make me sorry

You out here by yourself,

I'd call you something dirty,

But there just ain't nothing left,

cept

The thirteens. Right On.

Your Momma kissed the chauffeur,

Your Poppa balled the cook,

Your sister did the dirty,

in the middle of the book,

The thirteens. Right On.

Your daughter wears a jock strap,

Your son he wears a bra

Your brother jonesed your cousin

in the back seat of the car.

The thirteens. Right On.

Your money thinks you're something

But if I'd learned to curse,

I'd tell you what your name is

But there just ain't nothing worse

than

The thirteens. Right On.

One foot down, then hop! It's hot.

  Good things for the ones that's got.

Another jump, now to the left.

  Everybody for hisself.

In the air, now both feet down.

  Since you black, don't stick around.

Food is gone, the rent is due,

  Curse and cry and then jump two.

All the people out of work,

  Hold for three, then twist and jerk.

Cross the line, they count you out.

  That's what hopping's all about.

Both feet flat, the game is done.

They think I lost. I think I won.

And Still I Rise

Gather Together in My Name

The Heart of a Woman

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Oh Pray My Wings Are Gonna Fit Me Well

Singin' and Swingin' and Gettin' Merry Like Christmas

Shaker, Why Don't You Sing?

All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes

I Shall Not Be Moved

On the Pulse of Morning

Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now

The Complete Collected Poems of Maya Angelou

Phenomenal Woman

A Brave and Startling Truth