"Woman" by Georgia Douglas Johnson

A tribute to all the hidden figures.

Unselfish, silent potently
Behind each man of history
A woman stands, upon whose strength
He leans to cast his shadow's length.

She is his stairway to the sky,
His bow of hope, his inward eye,
His rhythm, yea his very breath
That plays betwixt his lips and death.

Aye, some brave woman without crown
Behind each male-throne huddles down,
A sentinel to guard his sleep,
A bosom where he kneels to weep.

To woman then! whose urge to live
Is summed within the right to give,
To merge her own identity
Into another's entity!