A Song of Self-Love
“You yourself, as much as anybody in the entire universe, deserve your love and affection.”
A priestess of Love and the Truth of spring rain,
of Beauty ever present and lasting.
A silver moon child, she waxes and wanes,
most alive in the black of night passing.
Woman free by Ashley Byrd
Yet she brings forth the sun, as she dreams in her bed,
of all she must gather for her pyre.
Her words are majestic, her passion blood red,
in her voice, a suggestion of fire.
With the dawn, a new day, let the old burn away,
she awakes with a purpose and plan.
Her heart, open wide, bringing flowers of May
as an offering to life once again.
A Love show and tell - sight, sound, taste, touch, and smell -
she crafts her creative display,
bringing stories untold to the beautiful souls,
sharing God in her colored array.
Fashioned as woman, and woman is she
with the copper-brown skin of ex-slaves.
Wielding Eve-strength of a certain variety
forged in wind and saltwater and waves.
A mother to daughters walking barefoot on Earth,
tiny-toed, and still feeling their lives.
The truth unveiled in the fury of birth,
in giggles, and the blinks of their eyes.
And when she’s alone in her quietude,
she listens and opens to Love,
The Light that gleams and glitters in all things,
The Infinite, nothing else above.
Oh, in awe of serendipitous happenstance,
and the tenderness of humanity,
and blooms, and stars, and the magic of bees,
and her native state, wild and free.
Love in all things,
April Eileen
