Before she ever gave birth

(To three children, one at a time,

Which follow her around like little ducks)

She wore thick dreads

And walked like a virgin princess on the earth

With lofty demeanor and resolute purpose.

After her photoshoot some men she knew

Tried to tell her she was a fool

To believe in this art

And to be a part of it --

They were strong men of her culture

Musicians and Poets

Men who always expected women

To listen to them good...

But she preferred her own mind

And told them simply that if they felt that way

They were not welcome to see her photos...

Nine years passed like a bird flying by

She came into my bus and sat with me

We talked of life and how she'd changed

And of the ways in which she'd stayed the same

Her mother eyes still held both ice and flame

Like the princess girl I'd known

Her little children by her side

Spoke best of how the bird had flown

Her album of photos she keeps private in a drawer

To share alone and rare with special friends

But this photo, Cougarsong,

Much enlarged, well framed,

Hangs proudly in her home.