The feel of her face with the fluid moves of her cheeks,
Along with the tip of her chin and the curve of her neck.
Her arms straight unto her nails and her waist,
Her hips towards her backside to the very nails on her toes.
For she’d not need royalty before her reality gleams,
And her clothing could only enhance or obscure the depth of her being.
She walks, leaps or sways with the very gale of feminity.
Her voice rises or deepens in the wave of existence of all stages of life.
Her eyes, the mirror to her heart; her lips, the wells of power.
The sensation that rises from her nerves to her nipples and labia
Energizes her will to be boundless either she be ravished or respectfully bedded.
Her built as she walks through life cut, crushed, companioned or celebrated.
Her ferocity in the face of love – wild, yet bridled.
Her compassion beyond the umbilical connection, still for nature’s protection.
Her beauty that may shine even from ashes of gray clumped in years.
Her melody that gladdens the hearts that seek mirth and warmth.
Her sleekness in delivering health or her skillfulness in drilling even the deepest hole
In the souls that crash her path to fill them up with what they deserve.
Her natural hair indicating her race, though lengthened, cropped or balded.
Her head wrap for it is more than a clothing or symbol, but the roles she bears.
The scales that fall off her ageing skin, though sometimes concealed.
Her chest heaving, not just with the weight of the breast, but the emotion of the heart.
Her hands, for they mold or destroy, spilling gracious or grotesque wonders.
The muscles of her legs and arms which might be tougher than heavy twines.
That she is not the second thought of creation, but is in the essence of it.
Her recoiling or rejoicing when you offer her bones or jewels.
She’s weak, yet stronger; her pains throw her under, but make her ascend
Into realms of unknown, places that determine the measure of her grace.
That her pleasures are insatiable, for she is a complex epitome
Of an empire that gives more than what’s been given unto it.
That she’s adorable even when she ejects natural scum – yeah, that’s still beauty!
The extent to which she can soar even if she’d been buried for years.
Her wings are meant to fly even when prejudice and pride clips them.
That her feet shall dance, not only to the tunes of children, but the joy of fruitfulness
That she births through years of painstaking nurture and knowledge.
The world at the tip of her fingers as she balances it on her palms –
That which have been wet from years of sweat, tears and blood.
She’s more than the eyes meet; she’s all that the Almighty has inputed into her.
She’s the great wonder of the world that makes men stand in awe.
She’s the mother of the earth and the children of the world.
She’s the noble princess that sits in the throne of darkness or that of light,
Wielding the depth and height with her right hand raised up in petition.
She’s the one that God’s designed to be a balance to all of creation.
She is God’s, His beloved, as long as her will and ways are surrendered
Not unto man, but unto her Bridegroom, her Saviour and her Lord.
For the sake of humanity, womanhood and women,
I #choosetochallenge the negative stereotypes against us.
About The Poet:
Ayomide Ruth Oluwagbenga is a writer and poet passionate about contributing her part to the improvement of people and the world, as she’s being helped by God.
She is also a foodie who is enthusiastic about good foods, food photography as well as healthy living.
She tries to balance life with its different demands and responsibilities as she currently studies for her MSc. in Microbiology in South Africa.
She can be connected with on Facebook (Oluwag Ay), Twitter (@AyoscoR), Instagram (Ayomide Ruth) and LinkedIn (Ayomide Ruth Oluwagbenga).
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