One day to cry and say yes, we made it,
but we are not there yet.
Holding hands like entwined wool
of all shapes, colors, sizes and textures.
Black, brown, white and in between,
cry the same cry, shed the same tears.
Strong and resilient, we glow and shine,
through pain, with hidden fears.
Giving birth to creation, as burden bearers,
we hear, listen and speak with soft
tones, we are the comforters.
We are the headrest and shoulders to cry on.
We are the laps to use as pillows, for
stories and lullabies.
We are the mind set thinkers and the planners.
We are the earth, the soil the grassroots,
of foundation.
We are chains and shackles that after being,
whipped and bruised, we drag our feet.
Bruised hands, we still proclaimed our salvation.
We are the mothers, daughters, sisters, friends,
grandmothers, aunts, a bond,
that no one can comprehend.
We are the peacekeepers, and lawmakers,
we are a force to be reckoned with
as headmasters.
Our heart is gold that gives light to
the hurting, we are the protectors.
We are like sparkling waters that runs,
through valleys and streams
quenching the thirsty souls
and healing humanity.
What’s her name?
Her name is worthy, cause it’s her space,
her place, it’s her race, she’s
just another face, in this time,
to be noticed.
As she removes her veil, her aura,
brings light, shine woman just shine.
They are waiting for you.
