Women Who Live

Momma, can I be a woman? I want bouncy, juicy looking breast, hips I could easily balance babies on, thighs that move like jelly and a bum covered in stripes of dark chocolate & caramel. I don't think many people really understand the soul of a woman, it's really a universe. Did you see her eyes? I know you taught me not to stare but I saw all these lives in it. I don't think she knows it and I really wish I knew the words to give justice to her eyes. The pregnant lady at the bookstore had me paying more attention to her than my christmas shopping. A deep brown life parted her down the middle, I could see half of her and half of her lover stirring up in her belly. A big science experiment. I saw this woman's back at the beach, the crease in her back was so defined I'm pretty sure I caught it blinking at me. These women walk thru storms with dust in their eyes, chain on their ankles and infected wounds. Yet, their voices are full of cocoa butter and have the sting of lemons. Nothing phases them. They love as if they were put on this planet for that sole purpose. They are born with a thousand years of practice. God must have given them angel wings because they go thru hell and back with radiating smiles and exquisite strength. Mama, please pray I become a woman. If I don't, I'll have to explain everything I feel to ears who won't value my voice. I'll just float thru life, nobody will remember my curl pattern. I'll leave them at their doorstep and never once will they sit down in the years following and wonder if I'm married. I'll be stuck having to use words to describe the indescribable. When I walk in a crowd, nobody will see me in their dreams and experience deja-vu. Pray for me, I promise I'll teach my babies about the magic these women carry.