Poem:Zora Neale Hurston Empowers Women in Stories
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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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