Go Get My Pistil

Go get my pistil.

(Bring me back my power)

All I see to the right of me is a sharp tusk

(Like skegee)

Relics of a before time
When power was mined for profit

(Like prison where Pete lay)
Please rock with me

Yarrow Wood was first aid
I found her 25 years later in a forest
And placed her directly on the wound

The dew looked like tears on her petals
Her due was tears as she pedaled forward

(Cry about why don't you?)

As they came to clip her
She made it clear
I am not a pick me
She screamed
Go get my pistil!
Bring me back my power

From a rooted place
She can go anywhere
Her beauty attracts a buzz
To do her bidding
From right where she is sitting
Her progeny travel the world

His story tried to wreck me
How can you be leading
In college degrees
Beauty pageants
And hysterectomies?

(Fuck that)

Go get my pistil
Bring me my power back
Save your glass vases
Like curio cabinets
For onlooking
I live in the dirt

(Did you know Black women live in an invisible matriarchy? We are the mothers of the nation, somehow deemed unfit to mother our own. When we care for white folks we are Mammy. When we care for our own we are too independent, too masculine, too strong. When we care for ourselves... Black women you better go get your pistil.)