Lilith,
goddess guardian,
first one to raise arms and plant feet downward.
Enheduanna,
I pay tribute to you.
Golden signatures trickle down on miscellaneous
temple hymns in honor of their presence.
No time but now to salvage remains,
original calligraphy to support descendants.
Sappho,
you underrated Greek beauty,
as ancient as solar discovery.
Numbering your verses for our eyes,
we thank you dearly.
Naomi Shihab Nye,
contemporary warrior of poetry.
Beacons lit brightly for the followers of the promised path.
In a dance of words, we glide to the ballroom wall.
Katherine Johnson/Dorothy Vaughan/Mary Jackson,
figures hidden for more than half a century.
Their brainpower is our destiny.
Embers burn with blue and white,
for no flame of signs, no frames of mind surpasses theirs.
Anne Waldman,
we will cross paths with a never-ending handshake.
Your material: a treasure trove of a vault.
Every page is an immense pleasure for readers of the tome.
Women in service,
picking the right battles and fighting for
those who would rather not speak in tongues.
Single mothers,
heroes of our modern age.
They give to the blades of grass and the
blades tickle their feet with ecstasy.
They give to a judgmental society,
and they require no companion for the future.
My aunt,
most qualified mother candidate.
All spawn reach out to her for guidance.
On this day, she answers the youthful spirit.
My grandmothers,
the world that you taught me to live in,
a foreign shore behind the seas of change.
You shone the light directly in my eyes.
Now, let me see!
Women of color,
though shade and tint matter not,
it was your time to rise long ago,
whether native nation or out of location.
Their right feet, forward…their heads, never looking back.
My mother,
the living embodiment of optimism.
Though Armageddon may drift past her,
she will see it as a lovely spring breeze.
