Her Lament
They said, ‘Go home,’
‘You’ll be safe there.’
But,
He screams at me, beats me (till I’m gasping for air)
Is that what you call safety?
I don’t feel safe
They said, ‘Work,’
‘At least you’ll have financial freedom.’
But,
They want things I’ll never give so I’ll never get ahead (it’s a man’s
kingdom)
Is that what you call freedom?
I don’t feel free
They said, ‘Go out,’
‘Have fun, don’t worry, you don’t need a knife up your sleeve.
But,
They leer at me on the streets, call after me (I’m not that
-naive)
Is that what you call fun?
I don’t feel like I’m having fun
They said, ‘Get help,’
‘Find someone you trust, to turn to when things are dire.’
But,
They don’t listen, think I’m looking for attention (I’m no liar)
Is that what you call help?
I don’t feel helped
They ask ‘Why are you so paranoid?’
‘No one’s going to jump out of your shadow’
But,
(How would you know?)
They say, ‘You reap what you sow.’
They say, ‘It’s your fault,’
‘Just look how you dress,
How you act, leading him on, no less!’
‘You should’ve been careful.’
(How is this on me?!)
But,
I say, ‘It’s not my fault,
I should be able to dress how I like,
Act like myself, speak to who I like’
‘I shouldn’t have to be careful.”
Her Resilience
In halls of steel and boardrooms bright,
Where deals are struck with forceful might,
She sits, a whisper in the roar,
A different cadence at her core.
They speak of sports and weekend brews,
Of locker room jokes and coded clues,
A language forged in many a boyhood game
Must be hard for that unlucky dame.
When she speaks up, she goes unheard,
A million voices drown out every word
If she shouts too loud, they say she's difficult
There is no winning with them; it's so typical
They stride with confidence so bold,
Their tales in the past are told,
Of fathers' firms and legacies grand,
She holds a different story in her hand.
She offers thoughts, precise and keen,
But her brilliance remains unseen,
They prefer the utterances of their own,
A rhythmic beat they've always known.
She longs to bridge the widening gap,
So she can forget she ain't a chap
To find a space where she can rest
From feeling like an unwelcome guest.
Yet in her heart, a fire burns,
A quiet strength that slowly learns,
To navigate this foreign land,
And carve a space where she can stand.
For though the culture may exclude her
She has endured far stormier weather,
She will grow and flourish, strong and tall,
And break the mold, and conquer all.
Liked these poems? For more, you can read my book or my blog