When Nikki Giovanni passed on, I saw several people post the same poem. It's a wonderful poem, but not the one that resonates most deeply with me.
My father exposed me to Black poets who used their words not only to emote, but protest and articulate the plight of Black Americans. I have always loved reading novels and poems. Although in recent years I have strayed away from what used to be such a comfort -- reading for pleasure. Now I read out of necessity, primarily. It seems with social media and text messages, I read all the time, but not for the pleasure of how words are put together on the page.
I first heard of Nikki Giovanni when I was a lonely, ostracized teenager. At that time, I imagined myself as one day being an extraordinary, fabulous woman who was misunderstood as a 16 year-old at Mumford High School.
The poem I love by Giovanni is, "When I Die" at the time is expressed my sadness and frustration at being looked at as an oddity. I think some people still look at me as an oddity, but now I know why and it doesn't bother me.
 I loved this poet so well that I dreamed of changing my last name from Green to Giovanni. Because a truly elevated, sophisticated woman might be named Giovanni. Dreaming this transported me to another idea of myself where all of the heartbreaking days of childhood seemed far away. The dream got me through the tough times.
When I pulled her poetry book down from my shelf with melancholy in my heart, I saw something in the book that sweetened that feeling: a Valentines Day card from a man I once loved and who love me. The card was keeping the place at a poem about love. That's the wonderful thing about life on earth, even in the perfectly melancholy moment, there's love.
Renowned poet and activist, Nikki Giovanni: Your words made me feel validated and seen and changed my life! May you rest in peace.
When i Die
By Nikki Giovanni
when i die I hope no one who ever hurt me cries
and if they cry i hope their eyes fall out
and a million maggots that had made up their brains
crawl from the empty holes and devour the flesh
that covered the evil that passed itself off as a person
that i probably tried
to love
when i die i hope every worker in the national security
council
the interpol the fbicia foundation for the development
of black women gets
an extra bonus and maybe takes one day off
and maybe even asks why they didn't work as hard for us
as they did
them
but it always seems to be that way
please don't let them read "nikki-rosa" maybe just let
some black woman who called herself my friend go around
and collect
each and every book and let some black man who said it
was
negative of me to want him to be a man collect every
picture
and poster of me and let them burn--throw acid on them--shit
on them as
they did me while i tried
to live
and as soon as i die i hope everyone who loved me learns
the meaning
of my death which is a simple lesson
don't do what you do very well very well and enjoy it it
scares white folk
and makes black ones truly mad
but i do hope someone tells my son
his mother liked little old ladies with
their blue dresses and hats and gloves that sitting
by the window
to watch the dawn come up is valid that smiling at an old
man
and petting a dog don't detract from manhood
do
somebody please
tell him i knew all along that what should be
is what will be but i wanted to be a new person
and my rebirth was stifled not by the master
but the slave
and if ever i touched a life i hope that life knows
that i know that touching was and still is and will always
be the true
revolution
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