No Matter How Happy I

I've Never Gotten Used To Winter And Never Will.

The Strange Thing About My Life Is That I Came To America At About The Time When Racial Attitudes Were Changing. This Was A Big Help To Me. Also, The People Who Were Most Cruel To Me When I First Came To America Were Black Americans. They Made Absolute Fun Of The Way I Talked, The Way I Dressed. I Couldn't Dance. The People Who Were Most Kind And Loving To Me Were White People. So What Can One Make Of That? Perhaps It Was A Coincidence That All The People Who Found Me Strange Were Black And All The People Who Didn't Were White.

That The World I Was In Could Be Soft, Lovely, And Nourishing Was More Than I Could Bear, And So I Stood There And Wept, For I Didn't Want To Love One More Thing In My Life, Didn't Want One More Thing That Could Make My Heart Break Into A Million Little Pieces At My Feet.

A Psychiatrist Once Asked Me To Draw A Picture Of My Family. This Is When I Was A Member Of A Family Of Four. I Drew The Three Other People In The Family First, Bodies And Heads. And Then, Last, I Began To Draw Myself - But Gave Up.

I Come From The Small Island Of Antigua And I Always Wanted To Write; I Just Didn't Know That It Was Possible.