ode to a Black woman

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even when she has nothing
she will always give everything

her back...it is broken from carrying the weight of the world
and yet, she will still stack her children's burdens there
hidden, so they never know the extent of her sacrifice

her eyes...they are bloodshot and weak
she aches to shield them from Life's painful truths
and yet, she leads her family forward through the storm

her shoulders... they shake, as she cries from her strain
and yet, she lifts her children up, sturdy as a mountain

to make sure they see the world
from a better point of view

her feet....they are tired, they are cracked and they are bloody
and yet, her dances of joy are lighter than a newborn sparrow's wings

and her voice.... oh her voice, it is hoarse and weary
for she fights every day for the multitudes that depends on her
but if you hear her song, it will disrupt your very spirit...

with the calm of her lullaby
the thunder of her war cry
the passions that make her lover sigh
and the spirituals that lift her ancestors' memory

high
high
as high as the sky

so when her soul is broken
and her spirit can go no more
the woman who carries the world
has something
to carry
Her
too

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⏰ Last updated: May 15 ⏰

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