Every woman needs a man,
Mother told her, to be complete.
To submit, she realizes, too late
soul traded for high-rise living,
big city dreams numbing
inner losses.
She eats to appease inner sorrow –
a second-rate childhood – afraid
of being a burden, loathe
to create a stir – conditioned
complacency:
appeasing,
pleasing,
follows plans,
avoids decisions…
never really knows where she is going.
Can she fault her man, schooled
to provide – the alpha male
taking ownership/charge?
His own lack, like a child,
feeding on impulses, craving
attention, overcompensating
for fears with bravado…
cannot understand her fear
of assertiveness – alternately reads
acceptance and disapproval, frets –
gut gnawing incessantly.
They stumble over each other, seek
separation in small quarters, discuss
repairmen, schedules – nothing;
avoid deeper issues such as the fact
that they are both suffocating, near
jumping off the ledge of their high-
falutin’ existence, into the snarl
of traffic that immobilizes them,
the noise of city living negating
their ability to listen, distractions
altering identities, until the distance
between
is too far
to bridge
in a single sigh            and she
no longer             submissive
has joined him
and checked out.
(This is a rewrite of a poem, by the same name, written in June 2016. Â Shared here for DVerse’s Open Link Night.)
One Woman's Quest 