The silk George wrapper sits snugly around her hips,
as snug as a baby’s hand wraps a finger
around her -emphasising the centre, where all began;
the Gele head-tie surrounds her face, majestically.
She is a flower,
that has carried, birthed, nurtured-
clothed with the accomplishments of a woman.
Coral beads adorn her neck and wrists,
partnered with gold,
she is clothed royally.
A shrill whistle fills the air, it belts out a tune,
accompanied by the rhythm of a drum
and her hips instinctively roll
from the centre downwards, arms spread out:
arms that have embraced even enemies.
White handkerchief whirling through the air,
feet stepping in time with it all, ,
movements of an Igbo woman.
Her back straight and head high-
the same back that supported weights,
only a woman can fathom.
Joyous expression from the same face that has cried,
the one that says, listen. I am fighter,
yet a lover:
the air of a Nigerian woman.
---
Submission by Nuella Onyilofor, Swaziland & Nigeria
University of East Anglia
There is more. So much more beyond this beyond. Your imageries are coming out straight now.
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