This is not a poem, no.
It is a celebration of the road we have traveled,
It is a prayer for the roads yet to come.
This is an explosion–the original big bank that makes the world a hopeful, loving place.
This is the black woman.
And all our trouble and glory,
And all our past history and future forbearance,
All all that ever made love a possibility.
This is about us.
Giving pride, giving succor, giving voice,
Giving encouragement, giving whatever we can give.
This is about us. Celebrating ourselves.
And a well-deserved honor it is.
Light the candles, this is a rocket,