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A pristine kitchen, a well kept house

She weeps in a corner quiet as mouse


An imported rouge, hides a bruise

A skin beautified by a lightening course


Her skills at darning, a thing to behold

She must look smart, but not be bold


Lined with kohl, the doey eyes

Make her starve for the perfect size


She will be mistress of the hearth

Her status will rise, with every son’s birth


And SHE who made her in her image

Cried as virtues became her cage


So SHE lit her fires and made her anew

Skewed, flawed with a strong sinew


Dark was her skin, with tangled hair

Her eyes breathed fire, all beware


SHE gave her teeth, to rip off their flesh

Protect her young and cut off her leash


SHE kissed her forehead, gifted her ire

Ambition stoked her inner fire


A sword in one hand

In another SHE put a scribe


And placed love in her heart

For self and her tribe


Content with her sculpture

God finally smiled


And said Go my child

Be brave, be wild.


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