My name is Woman
and I belong to the farms
of the roses...

Born from the blood
Of my mothers torn feet
and thorned spirit
I follow her footsteps
Weary and bare...

The thorns are big
Here in Africa
and the roses
Most rare

We work like cattle
Eat and sleep
No time to dream
Just the will to live
And fight
To survive
The devils
of
Poverty...

Those of us
Who farm the roses
Play a part
In the birth
Of its beauty...
But you do not know
The blood that was shed
and the pain endured
For you to smell
Heaven
From its
Petaled breath

I am Woman
and I belong to the farms
of the roses...

My blood runs thick in
The veins of its petals
As men and thorns
Live here alike...
In control
Because of "strength"
Hands of stone
And piercing thorns...

I am Woman
And I am afraid
For if I speak of
How they raped
My daughter,
My mother and I
We will die
For if they do not kill us
Hunger will.
Green and uneducated
At the mercy
Of the will of God
With sympathy
From an angel
Might we find labour
That feeds...

My name is WOMAN
and I was born to the
People of the Roses
and on my mother’s path I walk
Her footsteps were bare
But mine shall have shoes
and so shall
My daughter
Inshallah!Protecting our souls
Earned from the courage
of telling you the stories
of roses
Birthed
from thorns and
blackened blood...I know if we stand together
Our voices will be stronger
But first we need to believe
We have power
Blood only bleeds
But one has to lead...
And if it is me
I will fight till I die
With the words
I write
I stand
For the right
To have a life a Human
Was born to live
If death is the worst
thing
that could happen
I will not be the first
For even if I pass
My past shall Always
Affect your present

My pen against your gun
A seed against your bulletA Truth against your trigger
One Word against your breath
One Moment
One Life
One Woman
One Rose...
All Rise...