When the Fire Dies Down

Caught up in the emotion of the line

of all us women here to take a stand.

Hear our roar, hear our cry is our demand.

Chanting, marching, while holding high our signs,

if there is to be change, now is the time.

Some give speeches, rally for actions planned.

Afterwards, I plan to take pen to hand,

give those senators, a piece of my mind.

But after all is said and done, I can

not find the strength, no longer do I have

the same energy from the crowd, the fan

that stoked the flames. I return to live as

I had done, no attempt to take a stand

against the man, instead lower my flag.

I just don’t feel the tug of war, no long-

er can I fight, without the crowd to stoke

the flames, my fire has gone out. Revoke

my card for membership, I don’t belong,

to be grouped with the others just feels wrong.

Never took my pen to paper, no change invoked

by me. At work I hear a sexist joke

and only let it be, my backbone gone.

I hope the fire will come back one day,

and I’ll be ready to rejoin the fight.

Next time I hope it will be here to stay,

a blaze enough to lead me through the night.

But for now, I will keep a tiny flame,

until the time when I can spread the light.