Listen, as the stars sing, Come and see, the moon is dancing, what’s more, freedom is coming tomorrow. To meet it we need more warriors soon, sent from singing stars shining sun and dancing moon.
Mama had a midwife/I was born the old way
Don’t take a whole day to recognize me, and all sweetwater ain’t sweet the same
Deep like the rivers your womb she know just how fi run you
craftier than your intention she opens before me inviting explosion.
Populate the earth with me she says, or at least Brooklyn, or some warm weather place where African children are safe and proud and free.
How shall I respond?
What shall I tell her, for my children who will be black, fire flowing through their veins, sun and storm in their eyes I reflect
I still want to prepare the Earth before I plant, prepare this herbsman too, dig?
Seasons change, rains feed rivers, as do high places where eagles reach, wombs flower like May, make way for summer, call my name when you bring me sum. We can get it right. I asked to know when nation time came again. Perhaps now is a time, like the time there was. I too am before before, and after still.  Once I had 3 wives, bring 2 friends if you bout it.
Oya woman ride w/me, Oxum woman you know we got some things to handle, Oba woman come to me unashamed, I  remember your beauty.  Love each other and my brothers as you always have, it is an old way. Be not afraid. My place is inside you/beside and before and behind you/know it when you sing my names the way you do/like a mantra, prayer, conjuring/black magic woman