Still I Rise.

 

                                                                                      By Rafat

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like dust, I'll rise.

Out of the huts of history's shame

I rise

Up from a past that's rooted in pain

I rise

I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,

Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.

I rise.

I rise.

I rise.

                     Maya Angelou (1994)

Kartikey