“Children, I said to her. For the first little while, they not exactly human, you don't find?”
Nalo Hopkinson

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Lucille Clifton Died

And so I will never get the chance to meet her and tell how she wrote about parts of me in her poems that I did not know existed until I read her work.

One of my favorite poems and bio:

Telling Our Stories Written by Lucille Clifton

The fox came every evening

to my door asking for nothing.

my fear trapped me inside,

hoping to dismiss her but

she sat till morning, waiting.

At dawn we would, each of us,

rise from our haunches,

look through the glass

then walk away.

Did she gather her village around

her and sing of the hairless moon face,

the trembling snout,

the ignorant eyes?

Child, i tell you now it was not

the animal blood i was hiding from,

it was the poet in her,

the poet and the terrible stories

she could tell.
She will truly be missed.  Lucille Clifton was a poet for the wonderful and mysterious common woman.

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