JUST ANOTHER LIFE

SUCCESSION

I was walking down the street today,
People were staring at me.
Today seems just like yesterday,
Prejudice in those eyes is all I could see.

I came back home,
Stripped out of my clothes,
Stood in front of the mirror,
So that I could see clearer.

But what I saw was nothing new.
Two legs, two eyes,
Not so lean thighs,
Hair black as night.
A WOMAN was in my sight.

Then why do they stare?
There is nothing new ,
Then why do they glare?

That look in those eyes,
Sends shivers down my spine.
Those eye are desperate,
To find ways to dominate.

Even when I walk with my head held high,
Those eyes always remind,
Of the told and the untold,
stories new and old.
They remind me ,
That I too could be part of that history.

I feel unsafe and unheard,
I feel like a coward.
Because whenever I use my voice,
They say that seeking sympathy is my only choice.

Talking about my problems,
To them is a "repeated discussion",
So I should bring something new to the table.
But I wish they were able
To know that this is not a repetition,
Neither a competition,
It is an endless reality.
Not a baseless intuition.

I was told to respect,
But never taught to be respected.
Because SELF RESPECT of a woman,
Is the ARROGANT ASPECT of her personality.
If she talks FOR a topic,
They are AGAINST automatically.

If I wear more,
Then I am just a blind religious puppet,
If I don't cover up anymore,
Then I am the tradition depreciating culprit.

All my rights are GIVEN
Not earned,
I am ALLOWED to live,
Not birthed to learn.
I am not ASKED, I am TOLD.

Seeking permission is an obligation.
Old stories have experienced succession.
But this vocabulary is the same with punctuation.
Same for my story
And for all the female glory.