Poetry Sunday: Kin by Maya Angelou

As an only child raised with a couple of dozen cousins, I know a little about kin. I know about being "entwined in red rings of blood and loneliness" and that we have always been and ever shall be sisters in every way that matters.


by Maya Angelou


We were entwined in red rings
Of blood and loneliness before
The first snows fell
Before muddy rivers seeded clouds
Above a virgin forest, and
Men ran naked, blue and black
Skinned into the warm embraces
Of Sheba, Eve and Lilith.
I was your sister.

You left me to force strangers
Into brother molds, exacting
Taxations they never
Owed or could ever pay.

You fought to die, thinking
In destruction lies the seed
Of birth. You may be right.

I will remember silent walks in
Southern woods and long talks
In low voices
Shielding meaning from the big ears
Of overcurious adults.

You may be right.
Your slow return from
Regions of terror and bloody
Screams, races my heart.
I hear again the laughter
Of children and see fireflies
Bursting tiny explosions in
An Arkansas twilight.


  1. As I read more poetry myself, I have come to appreciate more what you do here every Sunday.

    1. Poetry is important to our lives and our spirits, I think. I'm a sporadic and disorganized reader of it and most other things but I do manage to read some every week. I'm glad you are reading more.

  2. How lovely yet disquieting! Does that make sense?


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