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