I wonder if our ancestors could hear the shackles of “what’s good ma Nigga?”, as the white python wrapped itself around her vocal cords of freedom. And released its venom of “shut up you Nigger”.
Yes, granted Susan B. Anthony and company led a White Women’s Suffrage, but the loud suffers of women clash of thunder, and liberation.
The millennial Rap’s “artistry”, magnifying the curve of her hips, that make demons of lust ache of hunger seasoned with perverse imagination. Quietly ministering to our young men that, “Yes! She’s a treat lick and meet your every need”.
I come from a generation where we cast another woman’s crown to feel renowned. Where the succubus sings symphonies of how she can wrap her legs around his soul.
A generation, where side chicks harmonize guiltless tunes of “I don’t care she’s not my friend”.
I’m sorry Amber Rose, your “slut walk” is a thorn to the name of Woman.
No, your name isn’t shorty, or whore. You are not a booty call, nor societies tramp stamp. Your name is Woman. Last name is Wisdom clothing your sisters with beauty. You are more precious than rubies.
Abuela, you are grace establishing peace in the heart of man.
Tia, you are shielded in strength and dignity.
Mami, your tongue is a flame of fire silencing the storms of statistics and corruption.
Mis primas y hermana bella , you are seated in high majestic places. You are a royal diadem crowning the head of God.
My name is woman. I am a trumpet sounding the glory of truth. A creator of life. I open my legs and push the destinies of soldiers, armies breaking the fences of injustices and limitations. Pack leaders roaring of influence. I release rebirth, restoration, and revival. Yes, generational power tearing the barriers of ignorance.
We are hands, filling the bellies of hunger, and healing the hearts of pain.
Her name is Woman. That’s me.
Simultaneously your breath inhabits our lungs, your gleam of glory swims upon our world, and your force of love pulling us into righteousness like gravity. Your hands of grace coming together to cradle us, as you sing soft lullabies quilted in mercies.
As you clothed the universe with your infinite beauty, I a spec; have been made a diadem in Your crown of glory.
A Lily in Zion, tearing the fences of feminism, and stigmas of " think like a man".
A fragile thing silencing every wind.
A lioness roaring thunders; echoed in Your boldness.
A fruitful tree planted in the Garden of Eden. The forbidden Apple of Your eye.
A pack leader, multiplying generations of Kings & Queens.
I have been made a drop of water, primitively stemming from the Jordan river, used to quench the thirst of the lost ones.
A finger, playing the melodies of Your salvation.
A trumpet, sounding the glory of Your majesty.
Ashes, molded into an anatomy of purity. With hymns of the magnitude of Your truth flowing through my stems.
I am a Lily seated in Zion.
I used to think sex was everything. To have a person swim
in me, and absorb one another chemically and spiritually...
But how could I do that?
Cast a vast responsibility upon someone, to take in
and hold onto all my darkness, worries, insecurities,
light, love and purity.
So, I searched for a new lover whom
could sprinkle, and claim a place. A place where
both our toxins and faults
And so, this new man asks
"How deep is your love?"
If only you knew the dangers of it being so deep
you could come before me, and before He.
But he should've asked how Dark were the
depths of my ocean?
You see because my darkness is here on the surface.
On the surface there is ugly; you, a man and flesh could not
surpass and reach the depths of my beauty...
Finally, a drop of rain fell and quenched my thirst.
I looked up and it poured.
The clouds whispered
" Now let me restore all that has evaporated."
He kissed me with every drop, inhabiting the depths of my beyond.
I am swimming afloat.
We are made of time.
Beings of the past, and present. Generations
molded as we step into the future.
Stemmed from roots as far back
to our mother's womb. We have felt love
and pain before we could even
gasp for a breath of fresh air.
We hid in her shadows,
and rode her waves of emotion.
We have been taught compassion since
we carried the burdens of our mother’s hearts...
Her tears have quenched our thirst.
She filled our bellies of hunger
with care and grace.
We were connected by the triple braided cord
that cannot be easily broken. Our hearts
yoked, beating to the symphony orchestrated
by God's breath.
As He knitted us in her, it's like He simultaneously created
a new her, so that we could both synchronously live an image of Him.
Equally worthy of chance.
Equally worthy of love.
Equally worthy of life.
Worthy of being born again.
Google says that the definition of TRUE simply means:
In accordance with fact or reality.
It is true during the storm the wind howls and smashes against gravity,
like the tides against the ocean.
Truth be told, time moves onward whether we accept it or not.
Truthfully, some of us live, but we all die.
You see there's truth in You...
So, it is true that you hear, listen and see all things.
Therefore, it is a fact you know me; the real me. You saw my darkness,
and lit up my soul with your kiss of life.
In truth, I can't swim. So, when I voluntarily
jumped and released me, Alaynna.
Completely diving into the abyss of forgotten, and
unto a pool of demonic pleasures drowning in the pit of chaos;
You both my creator, and lifeguard swam depths
beyond feet; to come restore, and rescue me.
In fact, my reality now mirrors you. That simply means
all truth... Less of me and more of You.