Dear Dr. Angelou,
Today you rest in paradise, and my feelings, dare I say it, are extremely selfish. I know you are at ease, enlightening the afterlife with your instrumental peace and glory … but I want you here… with me.
I do not recall the day I fell in love with you. Maybe it was in middle school, when I gazed at your lyrics in seventh grade English, unable to decipher the insight, but willing to feel the emotion with curious intensity. Or maybe it was in high school, when I began to explore literature and dissect the roots of Black culture and feminism. Perhaps I fell in love with you in college, when I was mature enough to grasp not only your lyrics, but the contexts which encapsulated them.
Yes, it was definitely in college! Your potent words gave me solace as I experienced subtle racism by the hands of classmates…
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