Black Woman,
head held high,
taking on the world
of it's natural high.
Bow hips,
silk lips
smoothe brown skin,
like
coffee nips.
My sistah,
standing tall
it doesn't matter what others think,
what matters, is how you get up,
when you fall.
Black Woman,
strong and true
fighting the power
of bitterness and crude.
My sistah,
of today
no looking back,
go on your way.
My Black Woman of this I know
everyday my skin is brown
people around me show
their
true colors
signs of blue
looking down upon my Grace
as if they never feel through.
My Sistah
I am my own
while I sit here
upon the Golden Throne.
My Black Woman, my sistah
of reality
don't stop fighting;
proclaim your position
as the Queens.
Adding your comment:
thanks
All is well though, I try not to complain 
