I Am Woman, All Woman

I am woman, all woman.

I rise like a mountain carved by the hands of God,

steady, ancient, and unmovable.

I know my worth,

I know my place,

and it is never the shadowed corner

where stolen affections hide.

I am not the side plate

set for secret hunger,

nor the second taste,

nor the third trial on a wandering tongue.

Men arrive like travellers

who have forgotten the meaning of sacred ground.

Some wear rings that gleam like warning signs,

yet they approach me with smoky promises

and call it desire.

But I see the irony in their longing,

for they chase a flame

while carrying the ashes of another home.

My body is not a science lab

for restless hands

searching for new theories of pleasure.

My spirit is not a whiteboard

for the half-written equations of weary hearts.

My celibacy is not a corridor

for a man to wander through

to see what he may discover.

These sacred chambers

are not for experiments.

I refuse to be the field

where curiosity plants seeds

that it never intends to water.

I am woman, all woman.

My being is a temple,

my skin a sanctuary,

my soul a constellation arranged with purpose.

I will not let any man

treat my body as a map

he may crumple once he has lost interest.

Yes, I know my aroma may tempt,

a fragrance as warm as ripe fruit,

as soft as twilight,

but it is not for every wandering breeze

to uncover or consume.

It is preserved,

held in a sacred jar like holy oil,

sealed for the man whom God Himself appoints,

the one whose heart is shaped

to recognize mine.

I wait for the soul

who will give me not only his love,

but his honour.

The one who will not ask for my body

before asking for my hand.

The one who will speak my name

as if it were a prayer.

The one who will place a ring

upon my finger

and call me the crown of his heart.

For I have learned the danger

of choosing out of loneliness.

Red flags often hide as roses,

and sometimes they are not flags at all,

but entire oceans dyed with warning.

Yet we swim into them,

thinking we know the tides

better than the One who shaped the waters.

So, I stand here,

woman in full bloom,

woman forged in wisdom,

woman wrapped in dignity.

Your insults fall from me

like dull stones against a fortress.

Your hands, heavy with impurity,

shall never touch this sacred body.

I am woman, all woman.

And I call to my sisters:

Rise.

Know your worth.

Lift your chin as the dawn lifts its light.

Do not allow the male species

to use your softness

as a playground for their impulses.

You are not soil for careless seeds.

You are gardens planted by Heaven.

Stand in your poise,

your grace,

your divine dignity.

Sisters,

Know Your Worth!

– Stacey Fowler

# # #

You are Invited to a Party

I was invited to a party,

I think I’m running late.

I jumped into a taxi,

I’m almost at the gate.

Delayed because of business,

I was even on a flight.

A few hours before,

I turned up there last night.

I had the invitation,

He gave me long ago,

I heard him through a jukebox,

‘’What does it profit,

If you lose your own soul?’’

I had gained the whole world,

Riches, pleasures, and degrees,

But I had rejected Him,

Jesus Christ, the Prince of Peace.

I heard Him in the pulpit,

I heard Him in my mother’s voice.

The Heavens declared Him,

And yes, I had a choice.

But, Oh I was so busy,

Doing my own thing.

I can’t even believe,

I chose the devil over Him.

Lies had been my ticket,

To many important events.

‘’You are a self made person,’’

‘’You deserve great enjoyment.’’

I dated death so many times,

Though life was calling me.

I rushed to Heaven’s door,

I hope there’s room for me.

But as I stood there knocking,

Someone said, I was too late.

I begged and begged to enter,

But Security shut the gate.

‘’Where is your invitation?’’

‘’JESUS is the only way!’’

‘’Oh, I don’t think I have Him,

‘’I rejected Him yesterday.’’

I overheard the celebration,

It was the Marriage Supper of the Lamb,

I can’t believe I’m missing dinner,

With the Great I Am.

I realized quite sadly,

That I was obviously too late,

The next time that you hear His voice,

Please open up your gate.

– Kadecia Wilson