More than She, Her, Hers Jeanine Jones More than hips thighs heartache and cries Fallopian tubes silk stocking, shaved legs ovaries and eggs Petite purses and high heeled shoes jilted lovers blues Baby mamas girl friends loyal wives to husbands Scented perfumes, sparkly jewelry laced gloves and underwear She is the originator of self-care. She is… fierce as Fire in the lion’s den Even though she tires she regroups unraveling coils of the world curing woes like Nightingale combatting COVID, yellow fever, and cancer taking on the workforce like the Riveter, Rosie Rising from Little Women to Matriarchs standing firm like steel magnolias in womanhood mastering the secret life of bees forming sisterhood proving Sojourner’s truth with her every action phenomenally without ego tripping, well maybe just a tad bit Celestial, out of this world, yet still grounded Her hand extends to those in need pouring into their cups when… Hers is half empty, she still has much to give Unapologetically confident, virtuous poise, at times fearless & fearful at the same time Flawlessly flawed a wrinkle in eternity she remains A walking conundrum that solves everything and everyone’s self-proclaimed crisis She is… The Fertile Crescent giving laborious birth to all making motherhood look easy leaving fruit from roots, branches, leaves cleaving they all fall from the tree of this Amazing Gorgeous Elevated Creature who was always a beast letting her inner beauty out Without her, there is no man no child She is more than She, Her, Hers, They Them the pronouns she prefers She is WOMAN hear her see her Honor her
Jeanine Jones is a small P.E.A. (Poet, Educator, Author) in a big pot, packing a lot of flavor. She loves the arts and uses poetry as her gel to make literacy stick. She has written five books and plays, including We Can All Decorate the Same Tree.