RISE MY TRIBE
Hold my hand take me along, pick me up when I fall.
Roar hard when I charge to break the glass ceiling,
Be the comrade I can count on , sabre to walk through obscure days.
And in those quiet nights , salve to alleviate my pain.
It isn’t time yet to raise a toast to celebrate hustle of
mothers , sisters and daughters alike .
The clinking of glasses got to wait.
From the depths of slumber I march on to awaken the latent feminism.
Of dismayed mothers feeling flawed for not birthing a son.
For she is a progeny too.
Of braggart aunties who could have more than one.
For male is but a gender.
Of senior lady quizzing a junior how she could afford an original Fendi.
For she too earns.
Of my daughter’s friends gauging their worth on the scale of pulchritude,
For looks don’t last forever.
Of spiteful co – sisters ridiculing the new bride in the kitchen.
For she's quick to learn.
Of insensitive co-worker body shaming the rookie.
For she is struggling with marital abuse.
Soar High My Tribe - there are realms beyond the one known.
Dilute the spirit of womanhood with malice or
Rise above hate.
There is no in between.
When the sun shines tomorrow, the day could well be ours!
