I Am a Woman

I am a woman And I have carried my children Across the raging waters, And over the deserts length--- And you dare to tell that me I am not strong. I have watched my children die Murdered, innocent in their beds When I thought them safe, Taken by those who could not teach Those who could not reach--- And you dare to tell me That I am not strong. I am a woman and I have Worked the fields with children in toe, After my man has passed on--- So we all might Have food & shelter Come the fall of night--- So the wolf would not Attack these, my children, after The light has gone way--- And you dare to tell me That I am not strong. You tell me that I cannot have the rights Of the man who came before me That I am, somehow, not Equal to his feats Because my anatomy is different than his--- It was a woman that brought Him into this world--- And you dare to tell me I am not strong. I have the strength of collective battles Fought by my maternal ancestors I have the strength of a woman who has seen too many years--- years of cold, years of darkness. I have the strength of a mother Who has had to bring her children up alone? I have the strength of a woman--- And you dare to tell me I am not strong!