She is the calm before the storm
She is the storm in a teacup
She is the cup that keeps on pouring
Until She decides to stop
Whichever comes first.
She is loud.
She is quiet.
She is sunshine on a rainy day
And raindrops when the skies are clear
She is light
She is dark
And any other hue in between
That God graces her with
And all are beautiful in their own right
She does not need to dim her light
She is in the recipes that have been passed down
The photos that grace the mantelpiece
And the language that you speak on your tongue
And just as she precedes you
She will outlive you too
As she exists through all that you say and do
Because there is no singular black woman
And she cannot be boxed down by what you say
Or weaved into what you want her to be
Instead, She creates her own definition
That does not start or end with her hair
Which is just a chapter and not the whole story.
She is the author of her own life.
Who is She?
She is her ,
She is you
She is me
She is whoever she wants to be.