Did I even exist?
Did my light skin
and curly hair even have a face on this protruding earth?
I was the blood.
The blood of broken hearted mothers ripped away from their children.
Poor boys sleeping in the gutters of crowded streets.
I am like a fragrance that is forbidden by men
And a voice that puts babies and crying children into rest.
I am but, a whisper coming and going as I please,
having only a stream of light to which I abide.
I am dark hair, large eyes, and a voice that can change octave.
A woman. Created by God with purpose and plan.