March 08, 2021
Sisters, your fire astounds me!
For it lit my pathway back to life when perpetual darkness seemed eminent.
Your embers have warmed the coldest of nights as you took my hand, called my name, and taught me how to walk again.
Because of you I ain’t never been the same.
See you are some super bad mamma jammas. Just as fine as you wanna be.
As your broad hips bring forth life, your limbs extend their reach far beyond stereotypes and societal limitations.
I stand in amazement at your strength as you stand shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart unapologetically taking on the world, one bad apple at a time.
See in your hands they don’t spoil bunches, they transform nations.
So with this poem, we plant literary kisses on your mahogany-covered feet. Often swollen and sore for your dance to the rhythm of your own beat.
We line your proverbial path with petals of purple majesty. And let the world know who you be.
Some call you Black women living with HIV. But you will always be Blood Sisters to me!