Listen, Forget it…

I have loved Maya Angelou’s work ever since I first stumbled upon I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.

I can’t recall any of her phrases exactly, but I vividly remember the outrage I felt on her behalf at the abuse by her stepfather. I drank in the oppressive Deep South, I smelled the sweat and felt the fear.

Maybe, just maybe, we should  feel first?

And once we do, the words will come.

 

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