Tuesday, March 08, 2011

To honor women on International Women's Day, an old poem found in a notebook


There's something in us that waits,
eager children who are taught
to believe in Santa Claus,
Tooth Fairies, the holiness of birthdays.

It may be true to say we
females of the species are born
in love, learn longing through
our mother's embrace, trust it will

be satisfied, that earth and sky
are so designed to meet the heart's
desire, and it is all desire always
even when the hawk kills the swallow,

the snake devours the rabbit,
the father leaves his family,
the teacher reprimands, the best
friend betrays, the loved boy mocks.

Longing doesn't leave, isn't dismissed,
shunted aside and life approached
assertively, without pity for loneliness
or the sadness of rejection and denial.

No, we continue to wait and believe
eventually you will convince me
that you love me, take me
into your soul and cherish me.

But, it rarely happens if at all
and when it does, it doesn't last,
won't repeat, but still we wait,
hoping, believing in fairy tales.

(I will never again, (never say never)
ask you to love me more than I
love myself. Your love is a gift, she said,
and now to get on with living.)

~~ Pat Maslowski

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