Saturday, May 7, 2016

Oh Woman

I dedicate this to every strong woman who overcame. We are survivors!

He had nothing when they got married. His first set of furniture was bought the week they got married.
Years later, God blessed them, money came.
She became the envy of other woman
She was admired by men, hated by fellow women
They saw the wealth, the beautiful rides in her garage, the designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry.
From one country to the other, she traveled, alone on holiday
To the world, she was having the best time of her life
Little did they know that she had no right to say no to his many beautiful gifts
To him, she was just a trophy, another property of the slave master.

She wore designer shades to church and other events
She wasn't being stylish; she was just covering her scars, the blood spot in her eyes
She loved to wear designer pants without showing off her beautiful legs
Religious folks called her a whore who would never dress like a married woman
She was only covering her scars
She was only telling the society what they want to hear.

Right in her matrimonial bedroom, the women entered
One after the other, married and unmarried
She had no voice, she couldn't shout as that meant days of battering and deprivation
She could only watch and clear up used condoms afterwards

She was dying
Society frowned at divorce
The church would make her a second class citizen and sentence her to eternal death in hell
Her fellow women who before now hated her are waiting to tear her apart
What would she do?
She was dying, drying up
There was no one to cry to
She had to go on as all she would be told was "it is well", "keep praying", "see war room movie"
Her children watched helplessly as their beloved mother daily got battered
They told her to run away
How could she? She loved her children

Alas! She's dead
Murdered in cold blood by the beast
The children are now motherless
The society she lived for now blame her for not running
The church that told her to stay doesn't even care about her children
The children are growing up with the memory that their mother was murdered by a man who should protect and fight for her
From one generation to another, the bitterness flows

Who will help the women?
Will God come down from heaven to do for us, that which He has given us power to do?
It's time to think
It's time to laugh at creeds
It's time to tread on taboos
It's time to stop lending ears to chauvinistic males
It's time to give your shoulder to other women
It's time to deliver yourself
Oh woman.

1 comment:

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