Woman: A Poem

I

am a woman.

So I must have

slender bones

and tender flesh

That snap and give way

under duress.

I should be

straight sweeping lines

A compact mass

of softer curves.

 

I

am young.

So my virtue

is my

only worth.

Passed

from father

to husband

to son.

From one owner

and then

to another.

 

I

must bear loss.

So

I must weep .

At times of hardship.  

I must cry

Validate

with liquid tears.

Assure them

Of my Aches

My Sorrows

My Many Fears.

I must cry.

Someone must be strong

to comfort me.

 

I

am angry.

So I will be humored then outright

laughed at

Like a spiky kitten

who thinks

it has claws.

Silently vowing

they will declaw me,

Find some way to make me doubt

and

pause.

 

I

I yearn

to protect.

But they’ll only let me protect

my children.

Fine.

I’ll protect them

and I’ll keep yours

safe too.

Let them grow

into fearless men

and women.

 

I

am powerful.

So I must be a witch,

A bitch

A sneaking snitch.

Because no

real woman

is powerful.

What strange charlatan

am I

to hold both-

this shape

and this power?

 

I

am human.

So I aspire

and I conspire

to be more.

Who says ambition

is the domain

of men?

And men only?

They’ll call me

what they want

As long as they want.


Just know

that all

‘female’ means

is

not-male,

not

less-than-male.

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