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Their pain—
the ever aching
of a nation.
Their loses—
savored gifts
to God who gave
them.
Their tears—
the breast milk
of faith.
Their sweat—
nourishing water
to tombstone flowers.
They’ve always had our backs;
they’ve always been at our sides;
they’ve always—when needed be:
Stalwartly
at our front—
leading the way.
They are our glorious angels—
Mothers, Sisters, our One
and only One—Queens.
Glorious queens
of blood, dripping sweat
and endless nourishing tears.
Come Brothers—come
let us give God the glory
for giving us these glorious gifts.
