Its face to me.
Though deception has played
Me like a cheap drum.
Though solitude has made
A hermit of me,
And the powers that be
Have their way with me.
Although
I cry uncontrollably
Though I
rage occasionally
I did not
surrender willingly –
Or will
not, when
They come
for me –
When they
throw the cuffs on me
And charge
me with divorce and poverty
Though I
know they only look down at me
They will
not unseat my soul
They cannot
erase the truth, which I know –
Their fire
burns and scars
Even their
words and looks.
I have committed
and created my own set of books
Inside myself,
remembering
My own goodness,
the accomplishments
That are
solid inside their diminishment
Who ARE they?
Not you and me.
Bureaucracy,
DMV, the local PD
Run amok:
the 21st century
Looms looking
mostly scary and ugly
To Court-worn, manless
mothers like me.
I rise
above the money they liened from me,
Maintain faith in what they will not see,
And celebrate that I still am me.
I Am
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Phenomenal Women Of
The Web
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