I Know Women

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I know women

who are tall women,

even while sleeping

their spirits rise to the occasion;

I know women

with mountainous cheekbones

that serve as steeples

for the light of her eyes

and the history she’s never seen,

I’ve sensed that Nefertiti

might be immortal;


as dark as tropical forests,

as soft as whispers,

as light as summer rain,

and as colorful as intimacy,

I know mosaic women;

I know women

who love for the sake of loving

and being loved,

hearts and honey melting,

and children being born;

I know women

who don’t contain their femininity

in the cross of the legs

and “no”

when they mean “Yes!”

Rather, it is expressed

in the lull of contemplation,

and the finale of decisiveness;


who’ve kissed the wounds of men

who’ve fought on her behalf,

pushing smiles in front of tears;

I know women

who’ve used a .45

when it was absolutely necessary,

a German luger

when it called for being revolutionary,

I know warrior women;

I know women

with big, thick-assed muscles in her thighs

from marching 

20 miles to racist schools,

and 40 miles to storefront churches

where sanctified saints

heal engraved wounds,

building pyramids of hope

as she travels;


who dance at funerals

and cry the bugles of patience’ end

at weddings and graduations;

These sisters choose

the men they want,

groove the men they want,

they want love,

I know women;

Whose spindly fingers

have crocheted potholders,

picnics, and national treaties;


who’ve mined barren hopes

for an ounce of indication

that tomorrow

might be better than today;

I know

I know these women

who’ve taught me

what it means

to be a WOMAN! 

Quinita Edmonia Good is an award-winning journalist and meticulous academic editor. She is a long-time Detroit resident and the mother of one son. Quinita can be found at qwrites.weebly.com.