The burden of gender is heavy,
The burden of women is like thick skirts
Wrapped around my ankles
Tugged tightly at my waist.
It's croaking up flower petals
And offering a sweet smile.
An endless to-do, chores that
Smother my energy for passions
Till I coma inside myself alone.
Lazy breaths pull me to sleep
Restless thoughts of everything
Yank me back to wake in night.
It's endless planning and menus,
Cooking, scrubbing cleaning,
Least I get caught slipping.
Least I make stress.
To pass the load is to eat stale bread
And slimey squash, to let the garden waste.
Bitter days on end, medicine that drowns me
In the pressures of a world made to eat
Everything good within me and feed it to men
Who take, take, take and seldom give.
It's climbing a cliff that collapses beneath
My fingers and hands to sand as I slide
Back down in the festering touch of the sun.
Should I think to rest, should I think to wave a flag,
I will surely be faulted. Strung up like the
Laundry I have yet to do.
Left to become a dead husk of corn
And forgotten all the same.
About the Creator
Laura Lann
I am an author from deep East Texas with a passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. In my spare time, when I am not writing, I draw and paint landscape and fantasy pieces. I now reside in Alaska where adventures await.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also pledge your support or give them a one-off tip, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments (4)
Great
This made me sigh out loud. So much truth in this one.
Sometimes it makes me wonder whether being a woman is a blessing or a curse. Loved your poem!
Powerful stuff ❤