THE WOMB MAN

She's the bone of my bone
and the flesh of my flesh
I call her wombed man
Such was her beginning

Made from crust and not dust
Such is her strength and not strain
Brought forth in beauty instead of filth

Immune by her maker against the tusk
of life. Judged fragile by the eyes while
the mind exalts her strength

A pendant beneath the head and a pillar
of the home. Her nature ameliorates the world and her beauty is an illuminance

I call her wombed man
Mother to the man
Mother to the suckling
Mother of nations
Pillar of establishment
She is a woman.