Maya Angelou, photograph by Bridget Lacombe (Smithsonian, NPG)

Today, the voice of an angel. Nope, I don’t have delusions of celestial proportions. I’m referring to the great African-American writer, Maya Angelou (1928-2014) who died not so long ago. In fact, I thought it was quite recent, but my mind was playing tricks on me.

She had a beautiful way with words. Breathtaking sometimes. And these two are a case in point. And they resonate with this Holy Week in several ways, unexpectedly. But the more I’ve reflected on them, the more they’ve seemed entirely fitting. It was on Palm Sunday that Jesus said that if people weren’t there to sing his praises at his triumphal entry then even the stones would cry out. That’s just one of the many biblical allusions in these poems.

Maya Angelou in 2013, painted by Ross R. Rossin (Smithsonian NPG)

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USA, Arizona, Grand Canyon National Park (North Rim), Toroweap (Tuweep) Overlook, Hiker on cliff edge (from Lonely Planet)
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