If you stand on my neck
I will take you down.
As long as you don’t kill me
I will take you down.
Assuming you don’t slash my throat
so I can not scream
or cut off my hands
so I can not write
or break my legs
so I can not run,
I will take you down.
That’s called hope.

Call me a self realized woman, woke.
Call me respect and standing tall or brave
and leaning in or talking up or just plain old fed-up.
Call me a tough bitch, libber, cunt, dyke, whore,
Aunt, Mother, daughter, sister.
I will take you down.
That’s hope.

If you persist in your wish to stomp the heart out of me,
if you refuse to get off my soul,
I may die today,
but my friends will take you down.
If you slash hope tomorrow,
children will shake you down.
If three years from now, you steal our dreams,
their children will make new ones.
If you try to break our legacies come next decade,
none of us have to run,
you will have no where to go.
That is called hope.