Rainbows and wishes
wings we give daughters
Little girl dreams destined
to hit walls – shortsighted
these laws of oppression –
for sweetness of youth
does not equate with folly
Women are warriors,
our rage underestimated.
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
“…too young to notice
how fear persists, and how
the anger that causes fear persists…”
– Immortality, by Lisel Mueller
Purposeful, this fortress
permanently ungrounded
Burdened without bearing
fear underlying motivation
Reassured that life is unfair
dedicated to defying limits
Challenged by rage
bloodline ingrained
Pulled towards inevitable
complete collapse.
(Inspired by the promptings of Reena’s Exploration challenge. To see the full poem and prompt click here. Image from personal collection.)
…and some days
we stand up
topple the furnishings
of corporate order
decry politics
and etiquettes
and rage,
rage,
inner light
exploding
in a shattering
ball of fire
blinding
purifying
setting souls free
setting us free
…and then
it’s over –
in a blink
and our desk mate
still sleeps the slumber of automaton
clicks a mouse in rhythm with photocopier
we sigh
and re-conform.
This rage –
this storm,
waves crashing
against walls
impenetrable
I am ice,
unforgiving,
unrepentant,
wounded
thrashing
against a beast
unwittingly
played by you
We freeze.
I’ve come undone;
you are battered.
It is irreparable
absolute
until one of us
shifts, and fear
surges, unleashing
tears
and transformation.
Before I jump into another man’s bed,
(especially one who has already cheated),
whisper my deepest yearnings to his
lusting heart, arch my hips to meet his
less than satisfactory thrust, I will make
sure that his compassion meets mine,
that he has the balls to prioritize, and
does not soften at crucial junctures.
I can look back at past follies, blame
hormonal rages, or beat myself over
shameless acts, but I am not the one
whose cojones, like deflated balloons,
lacked the wherewithal to differentiate
between brain and penis, and chose
to corrupt rather than protect the
sanctity of our children’s future.
Call it emasculation! Call it female
wrath; accountability goes both ways,
and as long as we women are willing
to carry the burden of guilt, believe
messages shoved down our throats,
and submit to impossible ideation;
relationships will continue to crumble –
Stand up! Make a statement! Be a man!
One Woman's Quest 