Poem: A Black-Woman's Work

I stare in the mirror to a Black-woman's work
A work sculpted in her womb for her man's glory
A work which symbolizes their very own love story
A work which began with hi my name is
Or a simple how can I help you
Such innocence
Who knew that I was the full divided evenly within them
A soul awaiting to be born to them
A male child who would need a Black-man's mind to think
A male child who would need a Black-woman's heart to feel







This time I approached the mirror even closer
Closer to see pass my own reflection
Right there and then I remembered
I am not who I think I am
I am not who they hold me to be
This woman's work didn't start with me
It started at a time when there was no time
She is only passing eternity unto me
Eternal life which I would pass on to my own children
Now if this isn't love then you don't know what love is







A father might see the tears of his child free falling
But it would take a mother to understand the meaning of
So here you and I stand
This woman's work
This woman's pain
Her pride, joy and grace
She should be able to rest and lay her body down
Heaven knows that she has played her part truly
Her promise to the world of a new day
Has been delivered through you and I







Bleed the night sky and call her bluff
Forever will not know you better
Her seasons will not change you
If you are indeed frozen in time
The Black-woman is the mother of all women
Her work is evidential in all the races
So come white, yellow, red or blue
Came one, none or all the same
For whatever is recorded in history
Began in the womb of a Black-woman