She Can Handle It
She can handle it, they said. She is tough, and so I grew elephant skin.
Walking over trees with lions chasing me, because they said I could.
Tell her, they told the complainers, she will do something about it.
I could not have done it for me, but I did it for them.
Because my reputation did not want to be smeared or smashed
or squashed or left in the dust in a ditch in the middle of Idaho.
She is the one to ask, she is the one who will fix it, she
is the one. She, she, she, she, she, she, she, she, she, she, she.
And that she is me.
But I no longer am a me.
Or an I.
I am a she can, she will, she does.
I am a mom.
I am a grand mom.
I am the fix it woman.
I am nameless now.
I am worn out, but I cannot let my reputation down.
So I keep going like the energizer bunny until there is nothing left.
Not daring to let anyone know that I am less than the SHE they expect me to be.
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