How to be a Woman
My soul genuflects
I find myself examining
All the pieces of “yes” and “No”
“Ok” and “maybe”
“I think it might be better” versus
“It will be more efficient”.
My heart is heavy
From the burden of having to be
Woman and worry
Of what he will say
What he will think
If I dress a certain way
Or say a certain thing.
My mind is tired
From having to pre-determine
How the consequences will dictate
What actions I may need to take
And my soul genuflects
From what I can and cannot do
Silent laws passed down generations
of women & what they’ve lived through.
I am someone’s
mother daughter sister wife
Fragments & fractals of
human being, meant to be serving
Even in my time of grief
Because my pain is not pain
Unless there is a weight attached
To how man sees and man feels.
I am a hashtag and a tagline,
A live giver and a lifeline
But never a being
With thoughts and emotions
Allowed an opinion.
I must dress a certain way
And speak in nicer tones
And smile more
Way more than I want to.
My soul genuflects;
I find myself examining
All the pieces of yes and No
Of right and wrong, of being wronged.
I am told that I am woman,
I can be bold. Yet I am told
That I am woman, I must be soft
I must contort myself
Into comfortable situations
Press myself flat against the wall
Of societal pressure and allow
Our attackers to live while we survive
Because they are promising young men
With futures ahead
A whole lifetime
Of Things to Do
Potentially important things
While I’m expected to clean up their messes
And stay silent in the wake of their actions
Because my life can’t have meaning
Until I am someone’s mother,
Someone’s wife, someone’s sister
Until he becomes a girl-father.
