Mother, please show me the discrepancies between the wrongs and rights.
Sister, show me what being a strong, independent woman is like.

Auntie, tell me all about your glory days.
I promise I'll listen.

Grandmother, tell me how much God loves me.
I promise to become more attentive.

Great-grandmother, show me the wounds that has been attached to your skin.
Cousin, show me that beauty and wisdom comes from within.

Teacher, teach me the origin of the Star Spangled Banner.
Teach me the importance of having good table manners.

Poetess, write me a poem or two about the time when education was prohibited except cooking, cleaning, birthing, and sowing.
Ancestor, open my eyes and ears to the unknown.

Singer, sing the songs of life and death.
Fighter, fight until there is nothing left.

For I am a lost soul who is eager to listen to your words of wisdom...

copy written 5/14/2008

I don’t know who you are, Dana, or anything about you. If you introduced yourself in the newbie thread, I missed it. But I want to tell you that I do not have a fondness for poetry. I’ve actually hurt a friend’s feelings because I’d cringe whenever she wanted me to read her work.

But I read yours and weep. It touches me, sings to me and lingers long after I’ve left the page.

Like Brenda, I'm not fond of poetry, but yours is very moving. Good job.

Thought provoking.

Got to me too, Dana, and my poetry usually begins with, "There once was a man from..."

My lifelong interest (read obsession) is in anything Native American or
indigenous cultures, and this poem of yours rings that bell. Many, if
not most, of the First Americans have matriarchial societies that rely
on the women to teach the next generation. In ancient times, the chiefs
(Mikko) of the southeastern Creek (Muskogee) Indians were women, called
Blessed Mothers

.