With the creation of the latest website that hits a new low even for those who lost the township for us good Republicans, my opponent, the man who led the orchestra for the past eight years, persists. I’m reminded of a poem written years ago that shows the depth of character of people who have been mistreated by cruel masters. My ancestors came to America from Lithuania and Ireland. The poem reminds me of the sad history of both Ireland and Lithuania’s struggles against oppression but the messages are universal. It provides fuel to carry on.
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.