I want a woman of fire who speaks like she keeps the sun tucked under her tongue
words reaching from lungs, approaching air and igniting
flames scorching skies like blunts burning flags burning patience burning down to embers
tongues lashing backs like whips torn from hands of masters
call them tricks, chickens, or bitches at your own risk
chins held high with a fist clenched supporting the fight from the street up
the other hand cupping full bellies holding the seed of tomorrow's revolution
enough passion in one palm to fill the city with heat and burn it down
but demure, so she responds to honest compliments smiling with a slight blush
warrior women
jaw set and staring down the barrel of a new day determined to survive
catching bullets in teeth grinning
swallowing teargas and never shedding a tear
swelling the frontlines of the fight
breasts swollen with words and the pain of bearing life as looked down upon by the majority before you even factor in the skin color
swollen with fury and ever-burning
women on fire
each step leaving smoking craters on sidewalks littered with cremation ashes from the mothers of battles long past
weaker sex my fucking ass
let’s see any man bleed from the dick for a week straight and still stand tall
birth children and breastfeed with sixteen stitches fixed from slit to asshole
sized up by how much tits you show or how rapidly those cheeks shake to the club hit
back that ass up
bitch, back that ass up
commonplace phrases gracing the ears of those who walk streets proudly despite deadbeat dads, incomparable wages, trifling girls with no sense of self-worth encouraging this behavior
and surviving the fangs of rapists
in this profession of dick swinging pissing contests between purported revolutionaries with kids they don’t support
beatniks living on their parent’s plastic assets
and boozed up, chain smoking assholes, like myself, chasing tail like that actually meant something
cherish those few women strong enough to stand at the mic and speak fire from tongues this world has tried day after day to cut out
but couldn’t
we can B Boy stance and look strong in the face of the spotlights but it’s a female of dignity and poise that I envision when I think revolution
change
growth
poetry is…
every woman who reaches out to the hands of the forthcoming generation of girls struggling to remain strong
stuck in the current of radio rappers and MT-video hoes
anti-abortion legislation and refusal of contraceptive supplies from religious right-wings
women on fire, keep burning
keep bleeding life from a body gifted with the wonder of creation
keep lifting voices to the heavens
whether it’s ecstatic fits of mid-coital convulsions, conversation
or poetry
demand yours in a fair share from those too scared to see a woman’s worth
slap knowledge into the heads of little boys who think a set of balls alone is enough needed to demand respect
I am by no means blasting my own gender
because the brothers in my set elevate our ladies from the depths of darkness descended into daily towards the light of a new day named equality
spit in the face of those who would demean a strong woman for being simply that
strong
in the face of religions that would wrap them head to toe decreeing their bodies as unsightly and unholy
demanding three steps behind husband as the position to stay in
saying education and profession are no places for women to be in
if I never have to hear another story of persecution pressed onto the sex of a young woman frightened to be what she was born as I would be able to sleep better
when I don’t feel the need to concern myself with walking a friend home at night, not because she can’t protect herself, but because I fear for what this world might do to her over the span of just a few blocks I’ll be able to breathe easier
when I can open my eyes and look into the face of a word blind to anything but the worth of a person regardless of appearance I’ll know that enough women have burned brightly enough to cast off this shadow of ignorance and let the light of the next step towards bettering everyone shine in
women on fire
don’t ever stop burning regardless of gallons poured onto your flames trying to douse you
don’t ever stop speaking heat into mics hot enough to burn stages to ashes
and please, don’t ever forget that the worth of a woman is what she sees herself as
and not what this world deems you
women on fire
burn me
rebirth me in the heat of a thousand suns so I might move past my previous transgressions and honor thee
as a poet
as a priestess
as precious
as a woman on fire should be
