She is the cradle of mankind, the one who carries the past, present and future.
She lifts up her hands to pray to the hills, for strength to conquer the unknown.
Her arms are wider than the east is to the west,
Welcoming and comforting all who come to her.
Her strength is like that of the baobab tree, standing firm in all storms,
A picture of strength and stability in a desolate land.
She has fought and led her country; she is the beacon of her people.
From the rising of the sun, to the going down of the same,
She is at the forefront of liberation, fighting for her future.
The silent strength of her husband and the ever-present power to her children
All day she toils and struggles, her back carries the weight of the world.
She is the unsung hero at the home, the forgotten gender in society.
She is the hero, the villain; the helper, the destroyer; the lover, the hater.
She has been shut down, kept out, stomped on and kicked at.
But she trots on silently; unbending, unyielding, unfazed.
Denied her place in history and abandoned by those she birthed,
She still moves ahead, through the desert of loneliness, unaccepted.
Now look out for her in the streets, watch for her on the sidewalks.
Confidence and assuredness bursts forth from her inner being.
She has been reborn, rejuvenated, resurrected.
No more is the dust and dregs of the earth for her.
She moves with renewed grace, beauty and poise.
Sing her praises, hear her story and see her triumph.
Shout it out from the rooftops! Sing it from on high!
Revel in her beauty, marvel at her intelligence.
Praise the woman you are and the woman you ought to be.