Strip me naked and trace back the intrinsic threat that links the nucleus part of my soul to my spirit.
Understand me not by the words that I speak but understand me by the inner being of my existence that carries repellence and excellence. The core that keeps me grounded that grips me and makes me a whole- makes me a woman, a soldier, mother, child, human.
Judge me not by the clothes that I wear because I am a soul that seeks to see your soul, see you, feel you, validate you and be you.
Touch me not by my bosoms but touch the wisdom that lies in my spirit and makes me see everything as soulful. Yearn not for my body, my bosoms, hips and sexy legs or what I have to offer but yearn for the poignant insight that lie within the gentle palms of my belly. Trace back the lines in the palms of my existence- read my palms read my soul.
Dissect the micro dialectics of my soul and understand the conversations I have with myself while I try to have them with my God and I try to understand how I’m connected to this God.
See me not as merely an extension of what man is but see me as an extension of your soul; the kindness that cuts deep into your veins- sharp like a blade cutting to make you understand who you are man. Rip not the clothes I wear, but rip me off of any chain, imprisonment, bondage, pain- any chain that seeks to bind me from living out the truthfulness of my nature- being a queen.
Bind me not with your words but let your love confine me, purify me, carve me. Bind me with your devotion to understanding the intricate parts that serve as a thread that connects my soul to spirit with your soul to your very spirit.
Help me understand; help me understand the power that I had- the power that could lead me Eve and make you Adam to disobey God. Remind me of the power that made me ruler over kingdoms like Motjatji the rain queen, like Cleopatra. Remind me of the goddess that is in me; remind me of what you had taken away from me. Remind me because you have forgotten yourself; remind me for I almost forgot that women ruled before men. I almost forgot I am the neck to the head stirring its direction; remind me for I have a generation to conceive.
– Charmain Rantsieng