Women have betrayed me far too long,
Too many shrugged shoulders, too many wrong.
Too many lies they've spun and told,
They've shaped me in a way that's cold.
I've written pages to explain,
To justify, and mask my pain.
A bit to love myself, you see,
Because, let's be honest, who could love me?
I am the morning light that shines,
The same light even as night aligns.
There will be wind when, blushing bright,
I kiss the sky with all my might.
There will be rain that lifts the veil,
Cleansing eyes, as tears prevail.
You'll be there, we'll share a hug,
All moved, yet more moved will come to tug
Us deeper into trouble's bind:
Is she like Gandhi, wise and kind?
Is she like Buddha, pure and true?
A priestess perhaps, with wisdom too?
Her cheeks will sweat, her tears will fall,
For death she saw, as life did call.
A trauma fierce, it will not cease,
So dark, it robs my voice of peace.