Kind Woman, Womankind
Brutes, in name of God, to show their might,
fixed laws, that you’d succumb like measly sheep.
Womankind, kind woman, rise and fight.
Innocents of war with smiles once bright,
ravished; tossed like garbage in a heap,
angels hovering nigh have you in sight.
Faithful brides, for something less than trite,
set on fire in their beds as they sleep.
Kind woman, womankind, your soul‘s in flight.
Girls in huts, legs spread, cry out in fright.
A ritual to mutilate cuts deep.
Angels from on high do hear your plight.
Wives in their own homes (not all is right),
beaten, hush their children not to weep.
Womankind, kind woman, comes the night. . . .
Sisters, don’t be wearied by the blight.
For what they sow, God’s told us they shall reap.
Angels have prepared you robes of white.
Kind woman, womankind, hold tight your light.
For the 'TRIBUTE TO WOMEN' Poetry Contest
Copyright ©
Andrea Dietrich
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