We wild women ride railroads with combat boots strapped and laced tightly
protecting our sheep because our children
sleep with nightmares
We keep our emotions frozen from fiction
in his story books
We the daughters of Sheba
heirs to the throne
We imbibe intuition
We bear our burden on backs barren
Our gender specific
We are the Superwomen
The ladies to give birth to revolutions in boardrooms, break rooms, bodegas and brothels where some of us finance romance due to personal circumstance
We survive
They call us She short for Supershero
We build bridges that generations will cross
We crochet uniforms for matching armies
We pray, repeat mantras, chant namaste and
sing warrior lullabies
We connect with ancestors for answers
to questions that six year olds conceive
In Alabama, where blood colored soil echoes
the dreams of four little angels
We climb heights with deer and send out warnings of…
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WILDsound Festival 