I cry a river
over times that are past,
when I held my mother's hand,
and when I made her laugh.
We walked and saw flowers
and listed to the birds;
She couldn't always understand,
but love didn't need words.
Even in the dark times,
when we were up through the night,
why didn't I see it?
Everything was right.
Why did I give up
and send her to a home?
She sat alone for a while,
and now she is gone.
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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