What are you so afraid of, I wonder. Is it because she’s got wings so bright, it will burn your eyes?
Is it because she has no leash around her neck, and won’t sit when you come running with a treat?
Or is it because she shines so bright that your fragile, dim mind refuses to acknowledge for fear of being overlooked?
So, I wonder, is that why you do it?
The magic to possess, to ruin and decay the force of nature?
You tell her how to smile, how to dress, how to talk, how to impress
Married, she must come with an expiration date or else be subjected to social isolation
“Maybe, she has a flaw! Her teeth look odd.”
“Something must not be right … You know … down there!”
“She won’t lose weight for her big day?! How will she look nice then?”
“Not fair enough, I want the kids to be like foreigners …”
“Can’t cook?! What has your mother taught you?”
“Don’t go out wearing this jeans, I can see your legs!”
“Your shirt is too short for this ocassion. Go and change. We’ll wait.”
“Please wear a scarf in front of your chest or else everyone else will say she’s inappropriate.”
This is off the top of my head. The list goes on. Many would nod their heads, many would shake them
I think with a pen in my hand, dropping my words like bullets on paper,
Why are there such massive and inbred structures in place to cage one bird?
The untethered woman is a threat, she challenges what you hold dear, control and power
How dare she question what you set in stone, how dare she demand her right, reclaim her life, her humanity
So full of venom, your dark veins are, you hold her down, and cut those wings and leave her in a cold, dark grave
Is that why you’re afraid? That she’ll come knocking one day, rising from the box, that you made
How long will you gag, O mighty oppressor, and tell her it’s for her own good?
You deny, deny, deny through ages, her right to live as she wants, you dictate in the guise to protect,
Ironic, for you are the real danger.
She is untethered, she’s got the wind on her side, rustling trees and the rising sun
Sell the lie to your own kind, that what they say about Angels, nothing but statues, choosing to die with a smile, in pain
Dare she love, out of bounds, stone her to death for she raised her head!
Cut the tresses, that entangle you so, raise desires but instead kill the source, how dare she entice the man kind
Cloth her body, but stare at her so, make her feel naked, isnt that her purpose?
A painting on the wall, a flower in the dying pond, lacking lustre, a rusting iron sword
The world is dangerous for a woman because the man has no control.
Women need to be protected because they’re fragile, but the world you built was meant to break every bone in her body
And yet she stands, raises generations and after generations, a martyr, an icon of love but abused for she is denied
Her existence, her choice, her identity, and her voice.
A smile is all you remember from the past pictures of women, not one mentioned in history for things that she once may have done but we will never know.