I am cradled within the womb. Within the body of Wo-man from a long line of African descendants.
Captured into a world never known by their free spirits….slavery. But, yet I am not here, I am in the Cradle of the Womb.
The womb of a strong Black Wo-man whose body has been touched by a hint of onyx, an oval face, hair that has been woven with the texture of course and thickness.
She is unashamedly **** which gives way to her full shapely and milk filled breast, a round ample butt, and child baring hips.
Her hands are cradling me, the beauty of onyx within the Cradle of the Womb. Emboding strengths never to be known to Men, blessed to transform the pains of childbirth into pure pleasure.
All give way to Wo-man…the one who brings fourth Life of all for without Wo-man there would be no me. Which means there would be no we, think about it……….
