Carved from ebony,
From a long line of queens and goddesses,
The epitome of resilience and
She stands tall and proud,
A rich and diverse tapestry of history behind her,
She carries it all,
Well-poised, on her head,
Her grace maintains her stature,
She seeks not your extended hand,
Her veins like flowing rivers,
the eternal Nile, giver of life,
Congo River, touched by reverent Mami Wata,
All abundant and rich,
Rejuvenates her, she is eternal…
There she goes,
A woman, the woman,
Perhaps the only woman,
Black,
Her hair extends like baobab roots,
Entwined with the land,
They are dark,
They are red under the dusky sun of Africa,
Her hips sway as she passes by,
To the rhythm of pounding drums,
My heartbeat, Africa,
The sweat on her brow,
Reminiscent of her struggles,
Yet she smiles as she sashes by,
Her unimaginable strength,
A mountain, Kilimanjaro,
Look at the children running after her,
Can you hear their chants? Can you see their bright smiles as they cling to her multicolor fabric?
The ululating of the dance women,
Hurling their limbs upwards and downwards,
The Earth shakes with each stomp,
The dust is raised,
Inhaled,
The men make way,
Now in deference and in awe,
Pounding drums, pounding hearts,
Pounding earth,
The smell of freshly pounded cassava flour,
Repast of kings and queens of old,
Their ambience is carried by the wind,
It echoes across the lands, Efrika,
Her voice, as she hums louder and louder,
Carries them, carries us,
She leads them to a better tomorrow,
Towards a dawning sun on my home,
O woman, women of Africa...
© solum_orbis