The things that don’t, embody me
In flimsy moments I lose my god
In righteous times he finds me
In constant prostration I lie
As age leers at me
Two, three more years
Come and get me before I die
The mockery of other women
The show and tell at showers
Shriveled breasts, dry uterus
The open bed and breakfast
Come and save before then
Age leers at me more
As I move from it is, to it was
It was but it isn’t now that he is with her
I am a woman it is true
The war out here is fierce,
He said I was too big, I lost it,
He said too small,
He said too average,
He said too sophisticated
He said I will have you but I will not marry you
They said you need to try harder when it comes to gods
I am a woman ain't I?
Stronger than most gods
Carrier of souls in birth
The one designated cleaner in death
Your pall bearer, your mistress in black
Kiss your rings at early waking
In bloody times carry your disease
Keeper of your weaknesses, am I not yours
Yet better than you are?
You, your sisters and holier others
Torment me, disregard my existence
Am I less than their yoked selves?
Tied down to myths and polices I am not worthy of
Or am I?
I am still not a woman with or without them?
Mtendere Alice Kishindo (c. 1988) Malawi
Source: African Writer
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