Our women

I tell you what, they know deep
My aunties, they wrap their firm, old arms 'round every neck
Sowing kisses like seeds and heartache, and I tell you what
For every name they recall like catechism they know stories
Like honey and vinegar, sepia photos and tales
Of deep mountain moonlit mischief & how Grandmaw used to make cornbread
And how Grandmaw stopped making cornbread when her memory abandoned
Her life stretching into thinner threads of flashing snapshots til they snapped
And she was gone
The decadence of the soil of our home and how it's not our home anymore
Our women carry heritage in their bones and playfulness in their grins
They are broken and brave, stubborn and kind, our women are the bards
Who burden their backs with the aches of yesterday and the glories of tomorrow
I tell you what, my aunties, they know deep
Exploring catacombs and mine shafts with the lights burning in their eyes
And I tell you what, I know where my blood comes from
I know where my pride comes from
Because I am our women now.