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

Had I not had my grandmother, who dared to be my rainbow in the clouds, I would have been just another sexually abused barefoot black girl on the roads of Arkansas,

We love and lose in China,
we weep on England's moors,
and laugh and moan in Guinea,
and thrive on Spanish shores.
We seek success in Finland,
are born and die in Maine.
In minor ways we differ,
in major we're the same.

She will always be the rainbow in my clouds.

Then I went back to my mother when I was 13 and she was ready for me.

The horizon leans forward, offering you space to place new steps of change.