Why Progress Remains Undone

A poem —

Photo by Edrece Stansberry on Unsplash

Women carry centuries
Of reputations and families,
Questions and devastation,
Never held in hesitation.

Multitudes that never meet the page,
For history knows no sage,
If men shall be the proprietors to write,
Than who will know us in our light?

But to tarnish us entirely
In a state of perished land,
Is the will of those who rule,
Seeking compliance for their blight?

She may have founded Rome,
Or built the city domes,
But with no one to bear her name,
Everything will destroy once again,
As it once began.

Eruptions awake the fool,
An endless pursuit for jewel,
The fortunate hide in school,
While he takes over his rule.

Tyrants take to tirades,
We are remembered in charades,
No one reads between the lines,
No one knew the signs.