Poem:Zora Neale Hurston Empowers Women in Stories

Zora, Zora, My Zora 


I have been in sorrow’s kitchen and licked out all the pots. Then I have stood on the peaky mountain wrapped in rainbows with a harp and a sword in my hands.” – Zora Neale Hurston


She’s genius of literary pen wrapped in metaphors

strung in stories & etched in stone legacy.


She gripped her pen creating clusters of characters

whose voices tumble through pistol-loaded sagas of bygone.


Her tales steal pain & grit that dribble much turmoil

with smidgeons of blood, bones, blues scattered on pages.


Heroines & villains breathe women's selfhood

like spiders scaling ceilings & a jubilee of colored cages.



“The Genius of the South” kicks off un-comfy shoes

to recline her strong bones affixed to a wooden rocker


& sneaks into eternity when her books catapult from coffin

to landslide reprints.


Our queen of hats puts on a Felt & tiptoes through tulips

while canaries warble from gilded cages.


Zora’s sinewy fingers plaited her babies into braids

looped in truth. She said:


There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside of you.


Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God is a beloved 1937 classic.






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