Tag: Supershero by Syd Stewart

We wild women ride railroads with combat boots strapped and laced tightly
protecting our sheep because our children
sleep with nightmares
We keep our emotions frozen from fiction
in his story books
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 mantras, 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 lightning and thunder
Rain cleanses our wounds and we get in formation positioned for battle again

We are alive
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 words
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
Wisdom is our passport for this sojourn
And we rub cocoa butter on scars
to mend broken bones

We strive
They call us She short for Supershero

We look until we find the red orange yellow sunset
We sleep until we are 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 BattleBorn
And manipulate physics to make the earth rotate with her cycle
The marrow of our elegant bones is where Solomon hid his riches
We the mothers of nature daughters of the dust
Our names are written by scribes and translated into hieroglyphics
We are Julie Dash, Neema Skye, Monique Coleman, Laquita Perkins, Ana Lou, Shab Bahadori,
Mata Hari, Zora Neale Hurston
Brenda Stewart, Ava Duvernay, Michelle Obama, Barbara Walters and Queen Esther
We don’t need Charlie to be angels

Only God

They call us She short for Supershero

We remember then we forget
we are welfare mothers with no man and five mouths to feed

We succeed

We are crackheads with habits
trading places with movie stars
We breed
We are aid to dependent children
We breathe
We are public in our quests to conquer the world
We are the United States of Women, chairmen of the board, senators and presidents
We are more than hashtags

We are free
They call us She short for Supershero

As we walk miles on the road less travelled
with shoes tight around our ankles
The footprints we make are indelibly recorded on the iPads of little girls who play hopscotch 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 aid and abet, we rewrite the alphabet for kindergarten classes
We ride or die for the masses
We build homes for the hopeless
Our wombs are habitats for humanity
We make no excuses and apologize
only to ourselves

Our men call us blessed and they learn Lamaze Giving us pause for the cause
They purify our breast milk so we can breath

They call us she short for Supershero

So when u see us gleaning in the fields
Like Ruth shining humility like diamonds and topaz you won’t wonder how she snagged a Boaz
So respect the swag and call us by name
Only the unattainable can render us insane

We are more than hashtags because of the magnitude of society’s vice
But for now

#Metoo will suffice