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STILL HERE I STAND
tall and proud
they did not break me
yet
African and white
they said I couldn't write
that poetry is for the others
writing for the sick of mind
Years they closed the moon
others they jailed the sun
but I could see through their darkness
the light of my grandfather's candle burning in me
Still tall, still still
wondering what they have for me
wondering if anyone is stronger
than my words.