WHAT MAKES HER WOMAN

Woman

I pen an answer to that man

who steal glances of lust at her

as she treads majestically on the soil

and her sole gracefully raising dust

printing her presence on the ground

and silently throwing the question

What makes her woman?

A living son of my mother

I have looked and learned

that if you dare know the answer

It’s in the tenderness of her heart

and the strength of her shoulder

to bare all worries of men

that makes her woman.

It’s in the much that she bears

and the much that she cares.

It’s in the tolerance of her nerves

to the kicks and the jabs,

the beatings and the batterings

and the playing and the cheating,

and in her forgiveness of all this.

It’s in the mask that she wears

to cover her ungrateful man’s flaws.

It’s in the beauty of her teary eyes

and the charm of her secretive smile.

It’s in the vastness of her expectations

and the explosions of her emotions

that makes her woman.

So you ought to salute her presence

for she hastily hunches her back

where you pile and pack all burden

while you hardly ever seem to know;

Not until she is forever gone.

It’s all in the tears she sheds

and the prayers she makes for you

that makes her woman.

                 By Sammy Nakitare