Being a Woman

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: September 30, 2018

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Submitted: September 30, 2018

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She curls her legs up to her chest,

Her insides aching,

Strength completely bereft,

“God, I hate being a woman,” she says.

 

Unwilling to show the interior,

She carries on with her routine.

Catching herself in the mirror,

She sighs, “I hate being a woman.”

 

Walking her usual direction,

The line between flattery and insult obscured.

Fearing and hoping for consolation,

She mutters to herself, “I hate being a woman.”

 

Emotional pain releases,

Tears flow in the bathroom stall,

But vulnerability is weakness,

“I hate being a woman!” she wishes to scream.

 

Always fighting,

Never seen.

Always at risk,

Never believed.

 

Continuing on her way,

A homeless man seeks remittance.

In a uniquely feminine way,

She is moved by his eyes’ despondence.

 

A small child in tattered clothes

Has tear-stained cheeks.

He is only one of millions,

Of innocents on the streets.

 

The impulse to console and give takes hold,

Though her own life she must guard.

Buying them a meal and sharing a moment,

She feels she has done her part.

 

“How foolish!” others scorn,

“They deserve no empathy.

Giving to parasites

Detracts from true clemency!”

 

But these voices belong to those,

Who miserly issue the title of human,

Who are quick to dismiss suffering,

And who know nothing about being a woman.


© Copyright 2018 Anais Garcia Gonzales. All rights reserved.