the period of about 3651/4 solar days required for one revolution of the earth around the sun
In looking back on my entry from this same time last year, I wrote the following:
“I know the troubles the planet is going through seems insurmountable right now, but never underestimate the ability of one person or a small group of people, to change the world.”
Scientists now say, it’s very likely that they knew about SARS-CoV-2 as early as last December (a year ago).
As a professional communicator, I want to think that I can come up with something profound to describe 2020. Or that I had some major revelation about the world around me. But the fact remains, that even amongst all of the tragedy, there was still good this year.
And if I could have one wish going into the new year, it’s that we don’t go back to what was before, because it didn’t work. Before was very broken. If we “go back,” the lesson was lost, and people died in vain.
Still I Rise
BY MAYA ANGELOU
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 backyard.
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.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history’s shame
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
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