At a time like this we seniors, I thought, could use some of 

the encouraging words of Jesus and Henri Nouwen.

The Little Boy And The Old Man

By Shel Silverstein More Shel Silverstein

Said the little boy, sometimes I drop my spoon.
Said the little old man, I do that too.
The little boy whispered, I wet my pants.
I do too, laughed the old man.
Said the little boy, I often cry.
The old man nodded. So do I.
But worst of all, said the boy,
it seems grown-ups don’t pay attention to me.
And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand.
I know what you mean, said the little old man.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-little-boy-and-old-man-by-shel-silverstein

On Aging

By Maya Angelou More Maya Angelou

When you see me sitting quietly,
Like a sack left on the shelf,
Don’t think I need your chattering.
I’m listening to myself.
Hold! Stop! Don’t pity me! 
Hold! Stop your sympathy! 
Understanding if you got it,
Otherwise I’ll do without it! 
When my bones are stiff and aching,
And my feet won’t climb the stair,
I will only ask one favor:
Don’t bring me no rocking chair.
When you see me walking, stumbling,
Don’t study and get it wrong.
‘Cause tired don’t mean lazy
And every goodbye ain’t gone.
I’m the same person I was back then,
A little less hair, a little less chin,
A lot less lungs and much less wind.
But ain’t I lucky I can still breathe in.

Source: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/on-aging-by-maya-angelou-2

About Maya Angelou

Maya Angelou was one of the most influential people of our time. She held many roles throughout her life, including poet, memoirist, novelist, educator, dramatist, producer, actress, historian, filmmaker, and civil rights activist. 

She was born Marguerite Annie Johnson on April 4, 1928 in St. Louis, Missouri. She spent her growing up years in Arkansas, where she experienced racial discrimination. While life was not easy, especially since she became a single parent as a teenager, she used the tough parts of life as inspiration to write and touch the lives of others. 

During the 1960's, Angelou spent time overseas. First she lived in Egypt. Then she moved to Ghana, where she taught at University of Ghana's School of Music of Drama. During this time she was the editor for the African Review, and she wrote for The Ghanaian Times.

While in Ghana, Maya Angelou met Malcom X. They came back to the United States in 1964, and Angelou was asked to help with African American Unity. After Malcom X was assassinated in 1965, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. asked her to be the Northern Coordinator for the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. King was assassinated on Maya Angelou's birthday 1968, and for a while she stopped celebrating her birthday. Up until the death of King's wife, she sent her flowers on this day every year. 

Maya Angelou is most known for her autobiography I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1970). It is the most popular of her autobiographies, and it has been successful internationally. It was the first best seller written by an African American woman. Her other two autobiographies are All God's Children Need Traveling Shoes (1986) and A Song Flung Up to Heaven (2002). 

One of her most famous poems, "On the Pulse of Morning", was recited at President Bill Clinton's inauguration in 1993. The recording of this poem won a Grammy Award in 1994 for "Best Spoken Word." Angelou also tried her hand at writing cookbooks. She published two between 2005 and 2010.

Thirty of Angelou's pieces made it onto the bestselling list. 

In addition to writing, she was also a successful director and actress. She was the first African American woman to have a screenplay filmed. In 1972 the film Georgia, Georgia debuted. It was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize. Among other film pieces, she was an actress in Roots (1977). 

During her lifetime, Angelou received more than 50 honorary degrees from various universities. 

Maya Angelou passed away on May 28, 2014 at home in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. 

Her words and actions have been an inspiration to many people.(from Internet)

On the Pulse of Morning

On the Pulse of Morning

by Maya Angelou

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since departed,
Marked the mastodon.

The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here
On our planet floor,
Any broad alarm of their hastening doom
Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.

I will give you no hiding place down here.

You, created only a little lower than
The angels, have crouched too long in
The bruising darkness,
Have lain too long
Face down in ignorance.

Your mouths spilling words
Armed for slaughter.

The Rock cries out to us today, you may stand upon me,
But do not hide your face.

Across the wall of the world,
A River sings a beautiful song,
It says come rest here by my side.

Each of you a bordered country,
Delicate and strangely made proud,
Yet thrusting perpetually under siege.

Your armed struggles for profit
Have left collars of waste upon
My shore, currents of debris upon my breast.

Yet, today I call you to my riverside,
If you will study war no more. Come,

Clad in peace and I will sing the songs
The Creator gave to me when I and the
Tree and the rock were one.

Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your
Brow and when you yet knew you still
Knew nothing.

The River sang and sings on.

There is a true yearning to respond to
The singing River and the wise Rock.

So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew
The African, the Native American, the Sioux,
The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek
The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh,
The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher,
The privileged, the homeless, the Teacher.
They all hear
The speaking of the Tree.

They hear the first and last of every Tree
Speak to humankind today. Come to me, here beside the River.

Plant yourself beside the River.

Each of you, descendant of some passed
On traveller, has been paid for.

You, who gave me my first name, you
Pawnee, Apache, Seneca, you
Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, then
Forced on bloody feet, left me to the employment of
Other seekers–desperate for gain,
Starving for gold.

You, the Turk, the Arab, the Swede, the German, the Eskimo, the Scot …
You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, bought
Sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare
Praying for a dream.

Here, root yourselves beside me.

I am that Tree planted by the River,
Which will not be moved.

I, the Rock, I the River, I the Tree
I am yours–your Passages have been paid.

Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need
For this bright morning dawning for you.

History, despite its wrenching pain,
Cannot be unlived, but if faced
With courage, need not be lived again.

Lift up your eyes upon
This day breaking for you.

Give birth again
To the dream.

Women, children, men,
Take it into the palms of your hands.

Mold it into the shape of your most
Private need. Sculpt it into
The image of your most public self.
Lift up your hearts
Each new hour holds new chances
For new beginnings.

Do not be wedded forever
To fear, yoked eternally
To brutishness.

The horizon leans forward,
Offering you space to place new steps of change.
Here, on the pulse of this fine day
You may have the courage
To look up and out and upon me, the
Rock, the River, the Tree, your country.

No less to Midas than the mendicant.

No less to you now than the mastodon then.

Here on the pulse of this new day
You may have the grace to look up and out
And into your sister’s eyes, and into
Your brother’s face, your country
And say simply
Very simply
With hope
Good morning.

https://nam03.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fm.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D59xGmHzxtZ4&data=02%7C01%7C%7C9fb06d79bf1d4852aaea08d822265023%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637296895224044000&sdata=JtDYAv4XU%2FdI118p6ZKCvNMpWrhvAEStRF1oLxapryM%3D&reserved=0

Analysis of On The Pulse Of Morning

On The Pulse Of Morning is 106 lines long, free verse, with no set rhythm to its lines, no pattern of rhyme in its many stanzas. It is a slow building kind of song-story with a heart-beat made up of diverse elements - from a rock to a mythological king, from native Americans to dinosaurs.

As pure poetry the language is not so musical or textured, the sense not so challenging, but where the poem does succeed is in its breadth and inclusiveness. It is a poem for everyone, it gives hope to all.

Certain sections suggest a Whitmanesque influence, others point to Ginsberg and the songs of Bob Dylan. Here is an authority giving the people guidance, pointing them in the right direction, towards the light and out of the shadowy dark.

Musical influences are apparent in the personae of the Rock, River and Tree:

• Rock - from the song No Hiding Place Down Here.

There's no hiding place down here
There's no hiding place down here
Well, I run to the rock just to hide my face
And the rocks cried out, no hiding place
There's no hiding place down here

• River - from the song Deep River.

Oh, don't you want to go,

To the Gospel feast;

That Promised Land,

Where all is peace?

• Tree - from the song I Shall Not Be Moved.

Just like a tree that's planted by the water

I shall not be moved.

Further Analysis Line by Line

Lines 1 - 8 

With a strong iambic beat the first line introduces three fundamental things: a Rock, a River, a Tree. Note the capitals which mean that the Rock for example represents the entire family of rocks.

The speaker looks back objectively, way back in time, to when dinosaurs ruled the planet.

A mastadon is a primitive elephant and, if anything like today's elephants, lived in strong family groups peacefully grazing. Modern elephants are sensitive creatures and are said to never forget. It seems they mourn their dead. Perhaps the poet chose the mastadon for this reason?

Dinosaurs have had their day and are now extinct but they did live amongst the rocks, rivers and trees, leaving their bones behind as proof.

Differing line length and rhythm mark the opening but note the internal imperfect rhyme link of dinosaur/sojourn/floor/broad and doom/gloom. The long vowels slowing everything down.

Lines 9 - 22 

A sudden shift into the present - the speaker announces that the rock has a voice and that voice is crying out to modern day humans, not only in the USA but all over the world. This personification of the rock leaves the reader in little doubt that this is now a shared world, one world in which the fate of the human and the rock are bound together.

The Rock has a vital message - humans must face their destiny with a fresh openness, come out of the shadows and live up to their spiritual potential. Open hearts are what is needed. 

Maya Angelou's language in this section reflects the seriousness with which the Rock speaks:

forcefully/seek no haven/no hiding place/crouched too long/ bruising darkness/in ignorance/spilling words/armed for slaughter.

More Analysis of On The Pulse Of Morning

Lines 23 - 40 

After the Rock comes the River, whose song can be heard over the barriers, the wall of the world. There is a peace attainable for humans, if only they'd stop the war machine, if only they'd quit yearning after profits they might understand how this peace is achieved.

Nature is forgiving, Nature is resilient. Water washes waste away and cleanses most things. This in itself is a beautiful thought but will the human listen? Can human beings let go of their military mindset and simpy rest by the riverside?

This is a powerful section which poses an existential question in metaphorical form. Addressing all humans as a country, You, the River suggests the human is ignorant, knows nothing, yet arrogantly persists in the pursuit of war and delusional dominance.

• line 33 ... If you will study war no more. The Negro Spiritual song 'Down By The Riverside' has the lyric ain't gonna study war no more. 

Lines 41 - 50 

All of humankind feels a need for beauty and wisdom as experienced in the songs of the River and the cries of the Rock. From gay people to Muslims, from teachers to Jews, everyone is included, all are equal in this respect.

Note the form of the list which features specific religious and cultural types - something Walt Whitman liked to do in his poetry. 

This section ends with the introduction of the Tree, which all can hear speaking.

Further Analysis

Lines 51 - 70 

The voice of the Tree is reminiscent of the Statue of Liberty's in New Colossus (a sonnet). It is a welcoming invitation to all peoples to stay and be secure. Those who arrived as slaves, native American Indians, immigrant newcomers - there is no debt to pay - all individuals can be rooted again, just like the Tree.

The symbolism is hard to ignore in this section. Just think of the family tree, the Tree of Life, the Trees of Genesis. And those who have gone through nightmarish times to live the dream (the dream of Martin Luther King?) the American Dream, can seek solace in strong family and ongoing traditions.

Lines 69-70 see the Rock, River and Tree, now truly personified, acknowedging the fact that humans and they are one, and they have paid the price for their journey so far.

Lines 71 - 106 

So, onward the human race goes, each new day an opportunity to make progress, to put past mistakes behind and forge ahead with a positive pride. The lines become shorter then stretch out long as the message is driven home - private needs are one thing, public expression another. Try and balance the two to make the dream become reality.

Perhaps the only truly full rhyming part of the poem:

History, despite its wrenching pain

Cannot be unlived, but if faced with courage

Need not be lived again. 

And anaphora, repetition, is apparent:

Here on the pulse of this fine day/Here on the pulse of this new day.

You may...you may....

No less to Midas than the mendicant. (King Midas, from Greek myth, who asked to be given the gift of turning everything into gold. A mendicant is a beggar.)

No less........ 

The poem celebrates hope by looking back in time and saying, Hey we've made it this far but maybe we've been too greedy, warlike and brutish..... perhaps we can do even better by humbling ourselves, returning to fundamental kindnesses, listening more to Nature, admitting our weaknesses and ignorance.

Take the first steps forward, wrap your hands around the Earth, sing and greet.(from Internet)

Thanks to share this great story about Maya Angelou, Dr. Lee, not many people appreciate/recognize!

But she has been the black woman I adore most together with Billie Holliday in the field of literature and music. 

And, I believe either the Atlantic or New Yorker gave an excellent review of her belief, years ago, which changed my image/understanding of Malcolm X as well. 

Indeed, I by myself also have very very limited knowledge on her only through her autobiography: 'I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings', I read in mid '90 while I was in Seoul - I believe she wrote it in 1970?-. But I recall it aroused my curiosity(?) on this racial/discrimination issue in South and gave me a momentum to grasp a more clear picture, which I had only a vague idea till then.

But I didn't know she worked at Ghana in '60 as you inform, where I also have made my first visit to Africa in the summer of 1960 to participate to WAY (World Assembly of Youth) following the independence under the leadership of Kwame Nkrumah from British colonialism. Indeed, the local colonial government built quite an impressive University College of Ghana at Accra where most of the elite intellectuals were educated to become the leader of the new independent government. Through the visit to Ghana staying at the dorm of Univ Ghana for two weeks, I learned a lot about Colonialism.

BB Lee

Thank you so much, Professor, for your invaluable comment.

I too must admit how little I know about the great black men and women in history 

who had achieved so much against all odds.

I began to pay more attention to them many years back when I realized one day that

the best-behaved group of my private patients among all patients are educated black patients.

To me, almost every one of them was an enlightened humblest human being.

Then the natural question I had was why? The answer was very quick coming to me,

which was, they all had very difficult, rough times being black to have reached where they were.

In other words, they all suffered tremendously in their childhood, youth and thereafter, just as

we did during the Korean War and thereafter.

As the old saying goes, a child or a person needs to suffer to grow up.

I was glad that I was able to maintain a trusting relationship with so many of them

and was able to provide them the medical care they needed. I'm grateful to their trusting me.

To me, these stories look like insults to our (and senior) life.

A whole bunch of stupid writings, I would say.

They seem to be nothing but a depressive sentimental view of an immature girl.

It encourages us to live positively and courageously, yet it was oppressively preceded

by so much glooms and dooms that the reader (or just me?) become depressed

instead of getting encouraged.

We have lived a rough and tough life. We do not deserve such a fatalistic view of our life.

How can you try to give a positive thought to a person after giving him a lesson of

the fateful miseries of life?

Any idiot can write about such a stupid 푸념 on our life.

I could not find any damn ecstasy here. Where are they?

These may be good literary works but please don't ruin a good day for an old man.

sorry if your good day had been ruined, WM.

So where is ecstatic life? Where is the ecstasy?

believe we all are trying to find it in our hearts,

so does Maya Angelou, so does Henri Nouwen,

and so do I, and perhaps so do you.

It is indeed so hard, I admit.

Perhaps what you are saying in other words

may be that it would be more realistic for us

to find the ecstatic feeling by making a long putt.

Steve's comment reminds me of my wife's criticism on my depressive sentimental view on the life, calling me a 'hopeless fatalist'!!! Indeed, my attitude toward the life has never been positive all along. Even the music I love is always 'minor' tune despite there was no reason whatsoever. Wonder whether it has anything to do with my Korean genes? Aren't Korean poems/songs mostly fatalistic like 한 풀이 as Korean traditional singing: 창 like 강원도 아리랑, which reminds me of '푸념' as Steve brought! 

BB Lee

P.S. The video of Maya Angelou's Poem "On the Pulse of Morning" for Clinton's inauguration gave such different feeling from the reading!!!