As a fatherless boy, I was primarily raised by strong women and athletic coaches. Of the two, I respected the latter but loved the former to no end.
The women I love
Take the Barbies And leave them to The Kens.
Give me the Sarahs The Billies, the Nancys. The Rosas Sitting on the bus Bench.
Give me the Bourbon sipping Annies and the Loving Janes.
Give me those Who push When the others Want to stay.
Save a place Next to the Deloreses who Refused the Status that Others for Them made.
Give me the Margots with A mind of their Own; the Elinors Blazing a trail Yet unfound.
The Yolandas, The Sams laughing To an undiscovered Spiritual seance.
Primal scream Ladies, Aretha Natural women Who shout and Holler at the moon Of imposed Circumstance.
Give me strength, Give me color, Give me timbre, Natural Women Give me earth, Give me time, Give me that Second Line New Orleans Rhyme.
Give me life
A smoke circle
Me, bathes me
In baptism, in the
Of ages, in the
I yet to