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's father.