That was my childhood. I grew up with the monks, studying Sanskrit and meditating for hours in the morning and hours in the evening, and going once a day to beg for food.
Berta Caceres, a Lenca woman, grew up during the violence that swept through Central America in the 1980s. Her mother, a midwife and social activist, took in and cared for refugees from El Salvador, teaching her young children the value of standing up for disenfranchised people.
The Black Panther Party was not a gang. They grew out of a young black intelligentsia on college campuses.
I grew up outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in a little town, and went to a regular high school. I was a… very average student in that high school. Then I joined the Navy, and while I was in the Navy, I was in a motorcycle accident and woke up deaf in a hospital.
From warriors ravens grew red And with their leader a host attacked.
Well, I grew up on the blues, man!
It gives me a huge buzz when people say they’ve enjoyed my books, because this grew out of a hobby, and it’s an absolute passion, and it’s lovely when I get feedback.
I grew up like a neglected weed – ignorant of liberty, having no experience of it.
I think I was always subconsciously driven by an attempt to restate that faith and to show where it was properly grounded, how it grew out of what a great many young men on both sides felt and believed and were brave enough to do.
There’ll always be working people in my poems because I grew up with them, and I am a poet of memory.