She'll be rather willing to be burnt
on the stakes forgotten
than sleep and wake in the jailers chains
watching her purpose gather up dust.
Rake her charred remains
heap upon heap among others
that died trying
She'll smile till the last, pleased.
Call her weak and wait but a week for a shocker to be hatched up her sleeves
Her make up is as good as war paint
In the battlefield of her mind
She'll smile - you'll think the sun is tucked in her mouth.
Strong woman walking carelessly over weighed rules
drunk with queenly demand as she staggers
you'll hear the music her feet makes crushing beneath her feet old
paintings of black woman.
Piece by piece where the moon
is absent to grace the nightsky
She'll complete the puzzle
of the woman in her dreams.
The wildest panthers are not odds enough to stop her
drums hard in her chest that they'll flee cowardly.
She has stopped feeding her past with her precious tears
She can hear destiny clearer now
Time now whispers than weep
She'll blow a kiss to heaven from her bed
giving a million reasons
like arms of jealous lovers to keep her unexplored.
Her generation groans
She hears them from the future
They cry for water
They cry for fire
For a worthy one who has gone through them
She is on her way
with the strides of a big cat.
There is no need to believe in her
where grace flows ceaselessly
to reassure her.
Adore her sores
Not weep ruefully
Its for the shore Beulah.
Through your telescope you will watch her
Sit on the brightest of stars with teary eyes still caught looking up to God.
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