Angelou Corner: The Detached

It's amazing how closely I can relate to this woman and her body of work. Every month, through this blog I expose myself to a piece of her poetry and every month I see bits of me and the struggles i'm currently enduring through it. 

I know that soon i'm going to have gone through to large a chunk of Maya's work to continue the Angelou Corner and at that point i'm going to have to focus my attention onto a different poet, but till then i hope both you and I can find refuge in this great writer's words. 

We die, 
Welcoming Bluebeards to our darkening closets, 
Stranglers to our outstretched necks, 
Stranglers, who neither care nor
care to know that
DEATH IS INTERNAL.

We pray, 
Savoring sweet the teethed lies, 
Bellying the grounds before alien gods, 
Gods, who neither know nor
wish to know that
HELL IS INTERNAL.

We love, 
Rubbing the nakednesses with gloved hands, 
Inverting our mouths in tongued kisses, 
Kisses that neither touch nor
care to touch if
LOVE IS INTERNAL.