Passing Time

by Maya Angelou

Your skin like dawn
Mine like musk

One paints the beginning
of a certain end.

The other, the end of a
sure beginning.

Dance is poetry in motion.

Self-medication

My love, forgive me
I am a poet
yet I have not written
any for you
so far

I write with my heart
and indeed you have it
with you

but it is wounded
from battles in the past
and the only way
to expunge the pain
and to stop the bleeding

is for me to sew it
with the words that hurt me so

A Soldier’s Admission

I have long been hiding
I have to confess
this open wound
inside my chest

I lied
when I said I didn’t
get hit

in desperate attempt
to save face

I thought eventually
the bleeding would stop
the wound would close
and all will be forgottten

but it’s taking too long
too long for me

I need to fight
in another battles
yet I cannot do so
properly

Not with this pain

I would’ve wanted it
in another way
to keep my pride
but you’re the only one

the only doctor in this place.