The Day Maya Angelou Recited a Poem for Me: My...

Part 2 of my story has arrived now at a website near you.

After Maya Angelou finished answering questions from the large gathering, she went to a table where she began to autograph books. The line was quite long because everyone in the room had a book for her to sign. I knew it would be quite some time before I got my book signed.

To my further surprise, Maya's brother, Bailey, came over to talk to me. After all, I had made a connection with him before I knew his true identity. Others had not noticed him until Maya had pointed him out in the crowd.

Bailey asked me about why I was there that day. I told him that I was in my first year of seminary and that I hoped to be a minister after I graduated. He seemed genuinely interested and asked me several questions about what I was studying and about what it was like to be in seminary.

Several people interrupted us to ask Bailey questions. If they could not talk with Maya, then they wanted the next best thing, the loving brother of Maya Angelou. After he answered each question graciously, he would always turn to me to ask me another question. We talked for more than thirty minutes, as Maya whittled down the long line of more than one-hundred people who waited for her to sign their books. We enjoyed our conversation together as he talked about his work and his hobbies and I answered questions about my life and my studies.

Finally, the line dwindled down to about four people. Bailey knew that I wanted Maya to sign my book, so he motioned for me to get in line. Being a celebrity, Maya had some "bodyguards" with her, as well as her very tall, imposing son. When I moved into the line, her bodyguards told me that I could not get in the line because I was too late. Bailey told them, "She is with me." And so, I remained in the book-signing line.

As the very last person in line, I had Maya's attention when I moved to the front of the line. The only people now in the room were Maya, her son, her bodyguards, her brother, and me. She looked at me and smiled. Bailey told her that he had been talking with me about my studies in seminary.

Then, I said to her, ""I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings' is such an intriguing title. How did you come up with that name for your first book?"

Maya said to me, "The line comes from a poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar. It is called 'Sympathy.'" Then she began to recite this entire poem:

Sympathy

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!

When the sun is bright on the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass,
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals--
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting--
I know why he beats his wing!

I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,--
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings--
I know why the caged bird sings!

~ Paul Laurence Dunbar

After she was finished, Maya asked me what my name was and wrote a beautiful inscription in my book, which, unfortunately, is packed away for safekeeping, so I cannot tell you what it says. Bailey told me that he never knew where she got the title for her book and thanked me for asking her.

While I was in seminary in the San Francisco Bay Area, I remained in touch with Bailey, who continued to live in Oakland. From time to time, I would attend poetry readings with him. When I graduated and moved away from the Bay Area, I lost touch with Bailey.

No matter where I go, no matter what I do in my life, I will never forget that magical day when time and the Earth stood still as Maya Angelou recited Paul Laurence Dunbar's poem for me.