We wild women ride railroads with combat boots strapped / laced tight protecting our sheep because our children sleep with nightmares
We keep our emotions frozen from fiction in his storybooks / We the daughters of Sheba heirs to the throne / We imbibe intuition / we bear our burden on backs barren / Our gender specific / we are the Superwomen
The ladies to give birth to revolutions in boardrooms break rooms, bodegas and brothels where some of us finance romance due to personal circumstance
We survive
They call us She short for Supershero
We build bridges that generations will cross / We crochet uniforms for matching armies / We pray, repeat scripture, some chant namaste and sing warrior lullabies
We connect with ancestors for answers to questions that six year olds conceive. In Alabama, where blood colored soil echoes the dreams of four little angels / We climb heights with deer and send out warnings of lightening and thunder / Rain cleanses our wounds / we get in formation so we are positioned for battle / again
We strive
They call us She short for Supershero
Our memories are like elephants and our swords are like tusks / We travel in packs and use our weapons when necessary / Our words pierce through flesh that is diseased
Some of us our doctors / some midwives / Some serve as council / the rest of us wait / We stir up our gifts and barter with dignity to gain honor
Friends and fruit we choose carefuly / Wisdom is our passport for this sojourn / And we rub cocoa butter on scars to mend broken bones
We stay alive
They call us She short for Supershero
We look until we find the red orange yellow sunset / We don’t sleep cause we tired of being tired
We rise until we kiss the sky
Our mothers are silent because they cannot speak / It is our time and we must rely on the moon inside / The tide current / the tomatoes ripe / the harvest ready
The virtuous woman in the mirror is UNSTUCK
And she’ll manipulate physics to make the earth rotate with her cycle / The marrow of her elegant bones is where Solomon hid his riches
Our names are written by scribes and translated into hieroglyphics
We are prolific
We are fried fish, candied yams, collard greens, mac and cheese, sweet tea with hot water cornbread on the side please
We are soul food thoroughbreds, so call us by name
We are Julie Dash, Shab Bahadori, Mata Hari, Zora Neale Hurston
Brenda Stewart, Ava Duvernay, Tige Charity, Michelle Obama, Dr. Pastor Andrea Humphry and Queen Esther /
So we don’t need Charlie to be angels
Only God
We thrive
They call us She short for Supershero
We forget and then we remember / We are single mothers with five mouths to feed / We succeed
We are crackheads with habits trading places with movie stars / We breathe
We are aid to dependent children / We breed
We are public in our quests to conquer the world / We are the United States of Women, chairs of the board, senators and Presidents
We are more than hashtags and moments / We are movements all by ourselves / We are free
They call us She short for Supershero
As we walk miles on roads less traveled / With shoes tight around our ankles / The footprints we make are indelibly recorded on the iPads of little girls who play TikTok with other little girls who Snapchat the lesson to little boys
Our names are documented in court dockets / Scribbled on prison walls in notebooks and typed in code by paralegals
We are eagles
We ride or die for the masses / We are hope for the hopeless
Our wombs are habitats for humanity / We make no excuses and apologize only to ourselves
Our men call us blessed and learn Lamaze giving pause for the cause
They call us she / short for Supershero
So when they see us gleaning in the fields like Ruth, with the shining humility of diamonds and topaz / they won’t have to wonder how we bagged Boaz
They’ll just respect the swag and call us by name
Because only the unattainable can render us insane
dangerous lips touch one tongue / one fire if lust reeked of smoke would it be called fatal desire? flesh stained sheets / no heartbeat you take aim with firearm charm clenched fists / yet your benevolent bullets always miss
Black, brown, yellow, tan and red people Rainbow lies and sunshine Faith and fear Flesh and bone Life in the shadow of death The bread of prosperity and The crumbs of poverty Love, pain, shame, and joy Inherent prejudice / innate compassion The power of the oppressed / the freedom to be Underdog champions The brave / the bold beings The forgotten and remembered I give birth to characters that fight on their feet On bended knee or their backs Who speak in dialects, languages and tongues With the spirit of a shero, a hero or regular Joe Who rise from ashes / the gutter or ghetto To find beauty
I create worlds with Re-imagined realities / possibilities Ripe with raw honesty Uncomfortable truths Begging for answers to problems We all bury within our hearts But find them in our shared souls Our commonalities / our wonderful differences
I tell stories that unite / make us cry And make us wonder why not
I am most proud of a blank page that I can make sing I am excited about the imaginations of young people I have walked as a docent in the wilderness of struggle Was fed by ravens when I was homeless Sipped tea from brooks and rivers with other starving artists Where we hid in the cleft of the rock until it was time
A loss is just a win turned inside out You can choose to be a warrior or a worrier Adversity is a necessity / a coefficient in the formula for success / do the math / live long and multiply
When you are built to win you never worry So be anxious for nothing except the sun
The hotel you’ve been squatting in has been purchased by a major chain and the trusted concierge who let you live out of one of our lower-rate rooms has been fired.
Effective immediately.
Please gather your belongings and exit the premises.
Now for the good news.
The mayor announced today that the rate of homelessness is down 0.001% in the City of Los Angeles.
