Black Poetry : Sisterhood

PatriceCQueen

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Aug 28, 2001
385
13
Brooklyn
Occupation
I teach Teen Health
I have a story
That has never been told
It is my story
Brave and bold

I never felt I had to worry
Until histories story unfold
I never walked my sister’s path
Or stand even near my mother’s bath
Man and I upon the warpath
Trying to equal the boy
That I let steal my bath

He is my shadow
Plain and tall
Helped me build
My wall ever tall
He was the child
I never was
In him I tried to be lost
Girls of my day were just not valuable
In this thought I was lost

I raced with this boy
Showed him I was boss
Then tried to stand over him
As sisters once stood under him

I quickly tired of this play
Tried to walk with him not stray
We could not understand each other
Seeing he was never my brother
I now understand the thing I lacked
It was my sister’s bath
The washing of my mother’s back
Somehow I fell of the track
When I ran to be
The boy I lacked

I am a woman now
Newly born in my form
I want to walk with my sisters
This after morn
To inhale their sweetness
Our spirits reborn
Honour our mother
The one I did scorn

Patrice C. Queen
 
Ikoro said:
Thank you for sharing that Sister.

The immaculate conception of a woman...

It touched me in a way few poems these days do. Very glad to see a poem honouring the things you just did. Almost had me wanting to shed a tear.

Sheer beauty in its most complex form, words.

~Ikoro


thank you for your response, i like your spirit

Peace

Patrice
 

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