"Woman," A Poetry Post

Some woman is
gonna give birth to the
mind that holds the
cures to the world's
great ills.

And she will
do what she will.

She could
wash that baby and
feed that baby and
love that baby and
raise that baby and
teach that baby and
chasten that baby and
then that child could
become someone that
could save the life of
some or one.

Or,
she could
birth that baby and
drop that baby and
not even bother to
wash that baby and
take that baby outside
with no wrap and
leave that mind
without consolation.

She could drink while pregnant and
never buy formula and
open her doors to
surrogate infidels and
eat real well
at the baby's expense and
forget about dinner.

She could
never open a book or
never talk about the weather or
never play the day's news.

She could
fill that baby's mind with
only rhythm
or only blues.

She could cry and cuss and
scream and slumber while
the rest of us wonder
why anybody would ever
have a child with
no intention of doing
a single motherly thing
about it.

And then,
that baby could
become some one
that never helps
any one...
not even
his or her
own self.

And we women,
being "the woman,"
would be entirely
responsible
for the
death of a generation
in the life
of the one
that baby
could have saved.

That's why
just
laying down with
anybody
is depraved.

A woman's fall
when she falls
is great.

-T. D. James-Moss