Solidarity

My Dear Sister...
I often wonder what you are thinking as we pass each other by on the street. Most of the time we barely speak. Sometimes we don't share the same language, but still I am curious to hear your voice, your story from where you are in your heart, your mind, your soul. I often wonder do you dream of the same things that I do? A better tomorrow for my unborn children, for a lover who will really understand the workings of my heart?
I see you my sister, you are not invisible to me... But you are me, just in another part of the world, striving to be...
But I have learned throughout the years that if I lose my voice, no one will know my story. A simple story, sometimes filled with pain,mixed with hope, as I pray...Asking for guidance, and the desires of my heart to come true.
It sickens me to hear the plight of my sister who lives next door to me in this global village, to hear of her demise, or discomfort, or to just know that the more things "get better", they still remain the same.
I know my sister that we out number men, but still we are not the ones who sit in the seats of power.There are only a few of us who have transcended to those seats... I know it was a struggle and it is our duty for those women who have made it, for us to always keep our voices ringing loud in her ears, or to keep our struggle on her desk, so she will never forget...
My Dear Sister... I am you.. and you are me.. There isn't any place I can go on this earth and not try to assist you. I know how difficult this journey called life can be. And when we come to the table, whether we are sharing a pot of rice, or drinking wine, brushing each others hair... just know I have no ought against you, even if I don't share the same language you speak. We are one in the same... We have hearts that beat...and blood that flows through our veins...and we have the power to hold, nurture and birth life...
So, My Dear Sister...when you see me walking down the street..pause for a brief moment and tell me your story... I am listening.