And I'd like to end with a poem--
I don't want to end with it, but I'm going to stop reading.
I will be glad to take some questions, or whatever after--
and I'll answer anything, truly.
Anything.
It's too late for me to be embarrassed.
I teach at--
I have for the last 15 years, taught
at a school, St. Mary's College of Maryland
in St. Mary's City, Maryland.
It was an Honors College, but under a new president,
I think it's one hell in a hand basket-- but that's just me.
There was a woman on our faculty who was the smartest
woman in the county.
I know this because she told me.
I, Lucille, am the smartest woman in the county.
OK, it's fine with me.
She's very interesting, because--
I keep my door open, always.
I wish to be welcoming to students,
so my door is always open.
And if they come by and the door is open, they know I'm there.
They come in and say things, like--
now, St Mary's is only 6% minority--
and they say things like, I hate everybody.
Can I come in here?
And I say, sure, but you must-- you
must leave without hating everybody,
because that's very debilitating.
And I think I have done good work at that school--
and in that county for that matter,
it's the county of tobacco farmers and water people.
And anyway, she was talking in her office,
and I could hear her say, what is she doing here anyway?
And I have the highest salary.
What is she doing here anyway?
I don't understand.
Why do we need her?
You know, this woman really didn't care a lot for me.
And I was so hurt.
I'm a Cancer, our feelings get hurt.
You know, is that not true?
Our feelings get hurt.
We think it's our fault. Raining, oh,
God, what did I do?
It's raining!
You know?
It's just the way it is.
And I wrote this poem.
And I like to read it at places, because it pertains not just
to me, but to many others--
to many other things, people, et cetera.
Has no title.
Won't you celebrate with me?
What I have shaped into a kind of life?
I had no model.
Born in Babylon, both non-white and woman.
What did I see to be, except myself?
I made it up, here on this bridge
between star shine and clay.
My one hand holding tight the other hand.
Come, celebrate with me--
the Poetry Center could use this--
celebrate with me, that every day something
has tried to kill me and has failed.