Some of my awesome women-friends are going through hard times. A handful of you will recognize yourself among that sentence. I empathize, sympathize and feel your pain in the most literal of ways. Life is tough.
let the wind blow you whichever way it will,
it knows our bodies better than he does.
Bend towards it's breeze, let yourself fall,
embrace the weaker sex, if that's what we are,
for we feel emotion
rather than cold, hard stone.
We stand tall on mountains, overtaking cliffs
We're the ones who nurse you,
play mommy to your Whim,
and child to your Want.
We stand tall and pretend to be small,
so as not to offend -
and you don't notice;
you're pressed for time, pressed for space
pressed for relevance,
your saving grace.
We stand behind shadows, smiles on our lips
We hold the steaming plates,
you chow and masticate and talk yourself to death
with crummy wisdom,
the woman across the table, winning the competition
with a wan smile and nod of the head,
so aloof and calm, you'd think her dead.
We stand on clouds, our brains so far away,
we dream, didn't you know -
our legs and feet have purpose, have time
rhythm, ageless, never failing,
our hair grows longer, our wrinkles endearing
our hips spread across the ages,
we hold out arms, for you to sink into.
We're mommy, we're lover, we're wife,
we're your backbone,
never crooked, never failing,
holding up your necks,
holding up your egos.
this cursed knowledge
will last amongst your daughters, your withered hands will linger
for far longer than you think.
Let the wind take you, bend you, even break you,
we're never as brittle
as they think we are.
We are their hope, their light,
of inexhaustable energy.