By Kgomotso J Kgopa, South Africa:
She holds the blade on its sharpest tip!
Woman the matriarch!
So soft and fragile on the outside
Yet so tough like a Lonsdaleite stone on the inside
Her stories and sufferings are often untold!
Early she rises before the sun
Her children know her and call her by name!
Her descendants feel her beauty's ambiance from a distance
The sweet smell of anointing oil of which she anoints her husband's feet
And wipes again with her hair can be smelled miles away!
She sits in the present
But her mind is far ahead as she thinks
What's for dinner for her young ones
She would rather starve herself just so her little ones lie on a full stomach when noon comes!
Her partner pulls and drags her down
But her values are deeply rooted in her
Like the thick hair in her sculpt
Accentuating her femininity!
Without her, the Earth is void and without form
For it is with her curves that the Earth assumes its shape
So spherical that she carries man on her hips!
Her heart carries life and warm words of content
So delicate in her skill!
So natural, her hands nurse and feed a village
Her sixth sense is what makes her who she is!
She carries generations and generations in her womb
Generations still to be seen!
Instinctive, her thoughts are only known by her
Woman you beauty!!
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