You call her Woman,
I call her a help for the head,
To stand on the neck.
Insignificant look like mustard seed,
But like a mighty oak tree,
Bringing shelter to her man.
 
You call her woman,
I call her a frontliner,
Never perturbed by her circumstances,
Choosing to weather storms in its force.
A palm leaf that flourishes in draught.
 
You call her Woman!
I call her precious Jewel,
Made in the similitude of a palace,
Shining in the midst of furnace.
Her worth cannot be found in the market,
Neither to be replaced for wealth untold.
 
You call her woman,
I call her the heart of dove,
With the strength of an eagle.
Gentle and long suffering,
Soaring high in a wild wind.
  
You call her woman!
I call her a world with generations of royals,
Only fitting for high places.
A lamp that never goes out, even when it's out.
Sowing in winter, gathering in summer,
To quench the rumbling of the dining guest.
 
© Abidemi Afolabi
May, 2021 Poetry Series
HPL
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