THIS WOMAN

Look at you, woman
Girth ballooning out of control
Too,your husband says you resemble
His ancient looking mother in law

This your husband, neat a trim forgets
You were the boys crush of the village
The reference girls used for beauty
The girl whose eye's captured his heart

This man, your husband, woman
The boy through toil you molded into a man
This broke lackey you broke your back for
Says you are not good for him

He spends days in boardrooms
Power accessing him secretaries skirts
Never touching your creaking bed
Saying its too old to play games in.

An old shoe, sure has its knocks
But it best knows where not to pinch
Is best accustomed to providing comfort
Its embrace knows the owners soft spots

Your grandmother filled your grandpas granaries
Your mothers back your father maintained
Now you anchor man who has no thanks
Is it your curse or man has played you a losing card?

The boys play their hearts out
While the mother teaches her daughter work
Boards fidget at the A girls grades
And smile at loutish sons fathers bring

Mother of humanity
Isn't the maternity hard enough already
That the heaviest of chores we leave to you?
Who set this roles we expect of you?

The village butcheress awaits with pain unbearable
To rob the innocent unknowing girl
Of her source of marital pleasure

Into the wilderness of man she's thrown
Each seeking an easy lay and faster exit
And woe to her if she gets pregnant
She's excommunicated, the slut

Be it she leads her class
Her father is led by promise of dowry
Sacrificing this sweet soul
Is there no reprieve for you my sister?

Marriage, that bed of roses you dreamt
Lays more thorns than petals on your bed
Nay, better, on your side of the bed
All wrongs you all rights him

Battered, slaved, scolded, chastised
You are the mother of lose ass children
The absent father becomes a present father
Only when one kid shines in the arena

Have you no shame, man
Treating these gods of benevolence
As if they were mats to rise on
Instead of worshiping at their altar?

I will fight your battles, sister
I will wash your feet, woman
I will respect you, girlfriend
And I will love you dear wife

For the years of toil in the Kitchen
The hassles of raising brats single handedly
Fast bring wrinkles and woes we shun
Where are those chores customs forbid me?