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Wearing her crown of pearly white hair,
Her sunken orbs glowed with a regal glare.
Her ebony hued, wrinkle hands, strong as stone
Are monuments of the burdening labor she had owned.
As her broken body has known sorrow and pain,
It remains a mystery how she has managed to remain sane.
Though her life has known despair and great depravity,
She’s never succumbed to the indignities of social gravity.
Indeed, “life for her has been no crystal stair”,
Yet, for us, she has always been there with loving care.
She’s the sturdy black bridge which we’ve crossed over on;
To travel along the jubilee road towards our liberation.
Indeed, this raven skin queen reins supreme like no other:
Praise God for the blessing me with this sweet sable saintly mother.
