Who She Is

She was never

the type, to be played with--

like a toy, then forgotten

and disposed of the next day.

Nor was she a pet,

that would beg, whimper

for attention-- and simply obey.

She was not a chair

one could stumble over

and sit upon.

He once tried to

make her his sports trophy--

as if she was to be fought over and won.

They gave her a size zero,

to aspire for, as if she longed

for a smaller waist and thinner thighs.

This girl, with her dark hair

and skin encased in melanin,

harbored an unextinguishable fire

in her eyes.

For she was bold---with her words,

with her walk, too bold to succumb

to simplicity in the mind.

With a bright future in her heart,

she could not be like a movie to stop,

pause, skip, or rewind.

This girl was the naked wind,

carrier of her own wings.

This girl, now a young woman,

has become a Queen-- unafraid

to strike and sting.

A free spirit, who cannot be stopped--

she will only pass her enemies by.

When she looks in the mirror,

I call her the Bald Eagle,

she took flight with identity--

and off I fly.