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Copyright ©  2005 Carolyn Sebron  
All Rights reserved

    January 2008

    Welcome

    Coming Soon!!!  AFRICA!  The photo journal!

    Oh by the way, I did a stint in London's West End too!  Carmen Jones.  Bet you
    didn't know that either! I loved that white dress!  Check it out!  

    Resurrection, Part I, now available at CDBaby.com.  Why not purchase and
    download a CD today!

    If you think living is hard, just try the alternative! - Unknown

    Want to know what's going on?  Sign up for the mailing list at
    info@CarolynSebron.com

    Thank you for the visit!                                            Site is being updated.
                           
                           Still I Rise
       
    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 back yard.

    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.

    Maya Angelou