Woman

Woman

This woman

She runs from a girl who runs into woman who runs back to her-story

Carrying the weight of these roots on her shoulders

Crawling back to time to find her laughter in her own stomach

Cooking love out of the nothing she’s been given

 

She is a battlefield

Men have always waged wars on her skin

Dismantled her temples and left these words standing on her tongue

‘You are nothing, you are nothing but a woman’

 

Woman

Woman

This woman

She runs from a girl who runs into a woman who runs back to her-story

Paved a way through the eyes of the needle, many nights have collapsed on her skin

As she ferries a luggage full of everything she wanted to say but could not say

Breathing with this dancing life, he is climbing on her body again

She muffles her pain, wipes her tears

And pushes a smile on her face

 

Woman

Woman

This woman

She runs from a girl who runs into a woman who runs back to her-story

Finding the remains of her beauty, finding the colors of her innocence

Finding her warmth, her voice, her virginity, the sound of her own true echoes

 

Long ago, before today was born

When her powers threatened men, they called her a witch

Tied her to the trees, burnt her to the ground and let the wind disrespect her ashes

She was no witch, she was a healer, she dared to be what men couldn’t have the audacity to be

 

Woman

Woman

This woman

She runs from a girl who runs into a woman who runs to this day

She has crafted the nothing men called her into something

And that something runs into a goddess, call her your majesty

Bold, beautiful, soft like a rose’s petal, strong like a woman, illuminating like a thousand moon

 

Today, she’s declared freedom to be woman, but she’s not free

When men cannot assemble their strength to her strength

They call her a bitch, a pussy to silence her powers

But remember when men can’t man up to a woman

They call her names

 

Woman

Woman

This woman

She fists up to say let the damn matriarchy begin

She’s found her voice, wrapped around her waist

Gyrating to the music of the generation of women before her,

Skin shining, voice breathing, eyes smiling like a love poem

 

This woman, she holds on to her heaven like there is no hell

This woman, she knows who she is

This woman she knows

She’s the future.