They say I have bore no fruit of the womb. They say this lack of fruit is sad, shameful, and selfish. They say to bare this fruit is a gift from god and to deny this bearing of fruit is to deny my purpose, to deny god. But I say they are wrong, for my womb is full. My womb is sprinkled with stardust, and lined with rainbows. My womb sings the most loveliest of songs. My womb dances under the moon and on the darkest of nights shines like the sun. My womb speaks in poetry, and in tongues. My womb is magic. My womb turns dust into diamonds. My womb creates art, makes films, and paints paintings. These are my children. These are my gifts from god. These are my legacies, My heritage, my HERstory. These are my children, And they are my purpose. So as you can see, My womb indeed does bare fruit. My womb is home to a lush garden, overgrown with a colorful array of the most precious, the most delicious and the most divine fruit.
By Premstar Santana