She had that chuckle, such a beautiful smile.
She had walked in those shoes, long mile.
She had an affinity for pink that soon changed to black.
The world kept reminding her constantly of her lack.
She had hips that would sway and pronounce her gait.
The chauvinistic whistles announcing her fate.
She would bury her head low.
Walk steadily but still too slow.
Her brothers had better clothes and more time to read.
Her work at home would give her no time to lead.
Her back would arch from the weight.
But somewhere at the back of her mind she knew it was never too late.
And this all happened when she received the missive.
That she no longer had to be eternally submissive.
She learnt that she could transform and change her records.
Go from a lady to ghetto in a matter of seconds.
They had missed the fight in her eyes.
They did not see the truth as they made a bed of their lies.
They had missed the arched back that could easily carry future burdens.
They had missed her upturned face to the heavens.
She knew where to get her strength.
She could see how narrow the road was but not its length.
They had broken off her wings at an early age.
Forever an angel, she had just changed her means of flying to a broomstick.
She had grown into a beautiful woman. Oh such a sage.
She had learnt there was power to be found even among the meek.
And so once again she swayed her hips.
Up the ladder of success she went.
She had the voice of the people on her lips.
She was a mother, a sister, a daughter and now a prophet sent.
Alone, she had self-actualized.
She had seen who she could be beyond the smoke screen.
She had not only hoped but also realized
She had stayed awake instead of dreaming of being part of the scene.
This woman had grown to know her worth.
She had not the let the past be part of who she was.
This woman had chosen to venture forth.
She was no longer a servant to men but now a boss.
This angel had refused to become a woman who needs a man.
But had become a woman who all men would need.