Our Hips
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Our Hips

Much homage to our hips
hips that did not give in
Lipton tea, kool-aid, lemonade
was the sin I live in
hips stuffed with gin
fried pork chops, fried okra
proud of the skin I'm in
turnip greens with turnips
hot water cornbread is the beauty it holds
season fried chicken and lima beans
fried green tomatoes, cream corn
and rice pudding potato fries
images of smiles and laughs
races of people ancestors proud
fried fish, skillet corn bread, and spaghetti
mac and cheese, red beans and rice
secrets of my babies taken from me
and stolen dreams from my past
I hold on to broken memories
of being misunderstood
rumors tease and hold on
are no good
the ancestors singing
the legacy stands
with the Lord above
holding my hand
my hips is the Mississippi river
that holds the water down deep
that keeps me going my heart pumping
from regret holding on tearing me down
where the summer kept me from harm
my hips taunt freely with grace and pride
race of women who could have died
while giving birth erased, removed from regret
much homage to our hips
of sweet nectar that breeds
a race of fine men and women
babies that add to the family legacy
I grasp my hips in solitude
of emotions and of pride
my ancestors gave before me
my hips are grandma's hips
mamma hips, auntie's hips
great ganma hips, nieces hips
cousins hips that say please
take it easy don't tease me
but please our hips with
the Lord blessing us with
hips that give birth to a nation

© Angela Brown . All Rights Reserved.


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