Woman in Me
by Tracey Ricks-Foster

I’m yesterday’s child
looking for the future Woman in me,
I’m yesterday’s child
looking for the Woman in me,
I thought if I got a man
and spread my legs as wide as the sea
that that would bring out the
Woman in me,
yet all it did was give me sleepless nights
abortion and baby and misery,
missing in action the woman in me,
someone showed me how to love a man
and sex a man, how to cook for a man
and slave for a man
how to give and give until there’s nothing
left to give,
but I gave and gave and gave until I
became enslaved and still felt empty
and very lonely,
that advice didn’t help me,
my body yearned for the touch of something
I thought was found on him, in him, around him
under him and only through him,
need I say more? I believed that the mere
essence of my very being
existed through a he because I was told
that without a he there would be no she, me,
so I tripped and traveled searching seeking looking
but not finding the Woman in me,
where did I go wrong?
Mamma please show me,
how can she show what she does not know
how can she lead when she has
been misled?
I am torn between her lies and their lies
and my lies about what makes a Woman
perhaps I had known all along
but dared not to reveal it
for fear the revelation would peel back
the numerous layers of my
onion like façade,
until one day it occurred to me
that I had found exactly what I was seeking
the ultimate vision of Womanly Woman ness
had not deserted me but anxiously
awaited my discovery,
the crown that I wear I wear for no man
I wear for the beauty of all that is she
and divine and Womanly,
my crown grows out of the fallicales of my head
and curls unto itself most beautifully
and it resides in its’ truest naturalistic self
for no man but for me,
my secret most intimate places and hideaways
are no longer public properties
to be used and tossed around, to give birth
under pressure and duress, to languish
in pain from insensitive visitors, no, my honey
is deliciously sweet
and more expensive than the finest
caviar for my hive
is well-cultivated and well-tended
and nurtured and loved, yes, I am the hives’ keeper
I touch myself with pleasure
and ache for the right touch, the gentle touch
of her hand, my hand together
on the crust of the blooming rose
that has burst forth with
color, beauty and song,
yesterday I was a child, a newborn to the world
today I am a woman and tomorrow
I will bask in all that is she
because finally I have captured the Woman in me.

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