Weakness Thine Own Sin

God struggled if whilst making a woman, We know she scarce is made the way man is, Similar mould, same clay, no matching ease, And harder He tried toiling under sun. No man's from Mars, no woman from Venus, Truth is: no woman treated is at par, She's lived a life of also-ran by far, Venus seems man's whim, his pen's pointless fuss! A myth that long prevailed, prospered as dealt, Yet, women care no straight jacket logic, To them it's heart that transmutes all magic, Quiet does she pay for how man has felt. Bearing man's seed never martyr her makes, If she raises the brood it's her domain, In motherhood man has never claimed stakes, Yet, price of privilege is not but pain. Of course, these seeds are centuries ere sown, We do have reigning queens, Opra Winfrey, As man, a woman too may be power-prone, To men mom-sis, well fine, wife in no way! She knows, a way out is no burning bras, Bushy armpits, hirsute flesh, nor sporting pants, Nightmares haunt, this male bashing is all crass, And caveats are out with all known cants. So, march with men, chest drawn and upright head, Hand in hand if need be, never behind, In touch, oft knowing when to brace ahead, And high time ye know which way winds the wind: You'd better beware of a Martian Gang Who cavil, hard it is her ears to earn, A dog that barks and bites— but hard to hang, In letting sleeping dog lie, lies my fun. From rooftops to rant, nor itching for fight, Nor proving thee better than Martian men, But putting to practice thine rights as can, So, better stand tall for thine hard earned right. And last thing ye do: feel frustrate within, For, feeling weak has been thine own past sin. ______________________________________________________ A centenary of International Women's Day has little to show for solid success. Suffering a collective guilt, frustrated, I can't do much better than pen this piece in protest. ______________________________________________________ Happenings | 06.03.11 |