When a Woman Is Just a Woman
Mother’s dirty offender seeded life that demanded nurture, demanded attention….
Demanded unforeseen fate
Twins, thrust upon her…. strained to love, and yet….
This happening urged her to live
Her head lifted, agitated,
Soaked from head to toe in the sweat of her labors…
The sight of blood reached her tear-blurred eyes heightening the pain
As she cried…
“May I toil till love reaches the mouth of hurt he inflicted!!!”
And, as her thrashing heart ceased beating,
The dear children, were born, one screaming, one gazing…
The other’s neck protruding from a little chest…
Big eyes observing, squinting, shuddering….
Mouth sputtering… and breath ceasing….
This little girl was born, a woman Mother once was—
Her death a source and justification to hate all men
A dreamy-eyed artist with yearnings driving her under,
Lips pure as newfound blossom, kissed once, though never plucked
Reaching for skies that welcomed her wishes,
Her seldom smiles brought tears to the sun
Her hair in curls of silk did bounce upon her back,
As every roving eye could not hold back,
The moist little build-up of awe…
Mouth ajar, for there lived upon this growing girl, surely…. no flaw
Save to her, tormenting imperfection….
For there… heavier and heavier everyday….the secret upon her chest—
Her poor dead brother,
Loved religiously by her martyr mother
Whom she hid under layers of clothes with much shame,
Never to reveal to the men who yearned to see her
Brother was always there, staring into the void,
A tumor child, shriveled, though gazing
A wretched burden to the girl now woman,
Her heart pounding with unanswered questions…
“Father...” She whispered, alone.
“Salt upon the wound, worthless is one consumed,
By death dangling upon my very chest…
I cannot live life like the rest,
The pretty girls of age, with plump and polished breast,
With skin revealed so freely,
Smiles countless, and genuinely……….
See, when a woman is just a woman,
Her opportunities are as easy as her grin,
And her future is clear as her flawless skin…
She bears no little boy attached to her heated body,
She enjoys little frivolous walks in arms she trusts…
Chance seemingly on their side…
Chance with me, dying, where Brother has died…
My heart could not bear to remove Brother,
Though even death I do not fear….
Father, I ask…now why,
Why am I here…?
And why are they gone?
All of them….Mother….Brother…..and…. him….”
Standing up, her face hardened
She put on her clothes and makeup, as was her routine,
And with a multicolored scarf she wrapped around her neck and chest
Covering the outline of her ever-gazing Brother
She could not think away from the scarf…
From what was gazing under…
And upon meeting another,
Anxiety raided her every being…
So afraid….and so unsure….
We are born,
Either man, or woman…
Acceptance of one another’s differences and flaws
Reduces fear of self, replenishes the soul
And love, above all,
Must meander through complications, defects, and serendipity
With a grace only leading one to fulfillment and happiness
-Inspired by Justin Bordner’s ‘When a Woman is Just a Woman’ contest
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015
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