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.