She's a woman, the mystery God is yet to unveil to men
She bears the curse of the man, feeding herself off the thorns and thistles she tills not as a helper but her own person
She muffles in silence the agony of the curse of the woman in childbirth and in the evidence of her identity
Yet she has the smile of a sunny morning
The touch of water on a parched throat
The voice of raindrops
Her charm hides in the steps of her elegance
The patience of her heart
And eagerness of her hands

She's a woman, she bores and bears
She receives only to give out
She takes as much as she shares
She carries grace to the outcast
While burning hope with the hopeless

She's a teacher before she knows to teach
A mother before she births
She's a queen where her steps glide
A physician where her hand brushes
A memory keeper
A friendly advicer
A romantic lover
And a hopeless mother
Her life is not her own
She's a woman
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