From a Woman

They want me to
Live life in a timely manner
And come home before the moon.
To wear a veil, a good-girl banner
And pronounce- show with dark hair
The purity that I am sinless;
Untouched by groping hands,
Untainted by many a madam's mouth-
The gossip that they believe, can ruin lives.
 
For one purpose I must be
Fit to be wedded and secured, to move forward
one household to the other,
And to know my place, where I shall stand,
Silent against authoritative hands.
To keep both feet rooted in the ground,
But cringe and fall to the feet of a man
And yet, still hold his face to propel his prestige,
I am to be mute and to do as he pleases.
 
To dare not to hold these ideals
I face a road of scorn, a path unwanted-
Exiled and become named embarrassment,
To be gossiped about, whispers as I past by,
Cold shoulders and an outdated crowd speculating
The number of times I've been used, but never
How many times I've been through hell.
To be here I have no place to go, and
To be there I have no place to grow.

Days

I just want you to know that there are days,
You take whatever light in my eyes
And burn them brighter with a smile.
Then there are those days that you do so well
At tossing them away.

Hiding

There is a nagging that threatens to topple me,
A weight caught along my ankles pulling me,
An empty feeling enveloping me,
I cannot stand to feel so bare, yet-
I gulp these feelings and hide my fears.

Secret Message

Seranade. The song of the symphony
Endorses itself into the evening air.
Ancient souls are stirred and awaken,
Nourished by the melodious tunes-
Yearning for forgotten memories, though
Anywhere to be seen, flutters of light
Nibbles at their invisible souls still
Grasping onto their beloved one
and
Lavishly the trinkets of raindrops froze
Over and between time as it abrutly stopped- leaving
Vintage traces of these souls compassion
Entwined in the notes of the song.

You'll Be Back Again

The smell of your scent
Inflames my nostril-
I am being held gently in your palms.
I rest my eyes and you stroke my hair,
Run your fingers one last time as you stare-
The sun is now shinning against my hair.
Outside there is a fresh breath of air
Waiting to be inhaled. You sigh,
It is time and you brush your lips against mines,
Whisper a meager good-bye-
Leave out of bed, and
Climb over to make your way home.

But even sleeping I felt your drifting soul
A rhythm pacing and growing faint,
A presence taking one long glance back, and
Eyes that watered to stay- go out the door.
I know you can’t afford to listen,
Countless times I’ve shout, asked for you
Not to go. The words bubbled in my soul
But when I spoke they did not get passed but my throat,
And when I woke you left me but your sweet smell.

It is an emptiness and a flame,
For tonight you’ll be back again, and
I know the words.
You’ve rehearsed them a thousand times
The reasons why you can’t let go, but I see
Your eyes tremble as you speak-
For every word breaks my soul, …and
That is what you hate most.