for International Women’s Day: St. Croix Women Poets of Place

Today is International Women’s Day. By a fortuitous circumstance, there is a significant overlap between today’s celebration and the participants in next month’s NEA Big Read in the St. Croix Valley.

First, the author of the Big Read’s book, An American Sunrise, is Joy Harjo.

Second, “This year’s NEA Big Read in the St. Croix Valley programming will feature a touring exhibit of poetry and fiber art by Minnesota Poet Laureate and quilt artist Gwen Westerman.” 

Third, three of the local Poets of Place affiliated with this year’s Big Read are women. The ArtSpace web site didn’t include links to any individual Poets of Place so we spent a little time this morning poking about the corners of the interwebs. (We’ll get to the two men Poets of Place one day soon.)

• Heidi Barr


• Rosetta Peters


• River Urke

We look forward to reading some of the works of these local artists and to becoming more involved in local arts-related activities in the weeks ahead, even though we hope, by next month, to be sorely tempted to spend all our time outdoors in warm, sunny weather. No doubt there’ll be the occasional rainy day mixed in.

Irish soda bread

Photo by J. Harrington

On the home front, we baked a loaf of Irish soda bread this morning and will bake a loaf of artisan sourdough bread with Irish flour this afternoon. St. Patrick’s Day is little more than a week away. But now, back to an extraordinary woman and today’s poem.

Still I Rise

Maya Angelou - 1928-2014

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.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
’Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
’Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

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.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

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