The Eleventh Muse
(For Maya Angelou)
No stories of female griots? How so?
You’re a part of that time honored tradition.
Great God fashioned “Lucy” first,
The progenitor of the human race.
Children first heard stories sitting on your lap,
Stories of Creation, and of the Fall;
Stories about rising, not falling —
You nurtured future griots on oral history.
We have gathered together in your name
So you can tell us why the caged bird sings.
You opened your arms and embraced us,
Loved us with the heart of a phenomenal woman.
You have your finger on the pulse of the nation.
We eagerly await your prognosis.