Blissful beauty as the skies above, Arms outstretched, sat on a pot of love. With feet sown into the soil of the earth, she craves no soothsaying unto her worth.
She bids upon the nature of water, To the earth, she’s a loving daughter. She breathes deeply, the swirling air, and basks in the fondness of its care.
She grinds on the stiff neck stone, to joy and beauty she is prone. Cooking and roasting on the open fire, brings to fill, the belly, its desires.
I see her in the distant past, As my gaze beyond the reach of time cast. Twist in splendor, hidden in a veil, her majesty, and beauty doth never fail.
And if one should ever ask you, of what is this song so new. Say: It is for all living humans, An ode to the African woman.
Copyright: Ken-Solomon Oballa sdb