Oooh! Now I understand...
2006-05-22 15:35:54 ET

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings - Maya Angelou

"A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange suns rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom."

Phenomenal Woman ~ Maya Angelou

"Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,

They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me."


2006-05-22 16:54:03 ET



The master of ceremonies appeared at the center dressed in yellow against a glowing sky blue like the early morning sun. She held the book of recipes in her left hand. With her bare right arm adorned by an arc of yellow cloth, she cast outward a stirring to life the introduction that she read. Then she excited leaving 6 dancers podded like seeds upon the ground.

The dancers dressed like autumn leaves with hair untamed and radiating rose slowly like spreading fire. Their moves were low and sagged like upon a field of with no heights yet to climb. Wild sudden movement punctuated a boundless space as they writhed with an inward energy. Their focus looked outward. Each moved on their path from their circle.

After the start, the dancers acknowledge each other communing through harmonic shakes. Vibrations drove them to jaunted leaps falling and rolling across the floor. Eventual these dancers separate into 2 cross tribes united in step and pose.

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