My granddaughter, Maya is
Named for this woman, poet of the people
She carried herself with such dignity
And my son Peter, who moved a chair for her
Watching out for her frailty when he was doing
His stint working the sound system for Black TV
In Nashville, was so impressed with her kindness
That he named his first child for Maya Angelou
My sculptor friend who died soon after my Maya’s
Birth gave me a book of the other Maya’s for my Maya
In it a leaf pressed and dried when I gave it to Maya
On her tenth birthday, reminded me that these giant
Women, are preserved in the books that we make of our lives.
Sylvana and Maya, you are sorely missed and yet we hear you songs
In the voices of our children and our children’s children.