The Woman and the Girl

I wrote this poem several years back. I think I was teaching college at the time. I also think I was a bit of a feminist at the time. These days, I take all “isms” with a pinch of salt. Whenever I read this poem, it amuses me. I think it needs to see the light of day, especially as it has been lying the dark corners of my hard disk for so many years. 

Mother of six, long married;

Her old, bald husband

Nurses his weak heart,

Copes with diabetes and arthritis

In a corner of their home

Now quiet with children

All grown and gone.

His voice, of late, has fallen

While hers has risen.

fat-womanBehold her single in the kitchen!

As she always was

Is and ever shall be!

Tough, judgmental, fatalistic,

Tired, fat, bored,

Clinging, domineering

And very hard to please!

The colossus brims with hot molten lava

Of words unsaid, feelings unexpressed

Dreams stamped in dust, passions dead.

A free soul subdued by stern patriarchy,

Chained for life with economic dependency,

Now trapped in a mound of fat

Her wrinkles their sad tales unfold.

Her mind outdated, old,

Her skills useless outside her domestic fold.

Behold her as she works!

And bangs her pots and pans

Grumbles and mutters

Thinks and talks

Of all but her own self

While nobody hears!

little-girl-twirling-773023_960_720Oh, was she really once

Years and years hence

Before she stepped unaware

Into cursed womanhood

A girl of dimples and smiles,

Plaits, skirts and ribbons,

Her anklets sounding joy

As she ran, jumped and played

Her laughter resounding in hills and vales

Where flowers shivered and birds twittered

And the gentle breeze caressed

The stray locks rolling carelessly

On her rosy lips and cheeks,

Her dreams fresh as dewdrops?

Her hopes unshattered?


8 thoughts on “The Woman and the Girl

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