Years roll by.
No longer the observer,
You become an object.
You know you are a woman
When other people deal with you
Along the outlines of your contours.
It defines you, it defines them.
It shuts you within a slender frame.
Makes you fragile, delicate...anybody
Could break you, if they wanted to.
Like a trapped genie
You seek to expand
You strive to eat the world
But are always returned to the glass
Sealed safely to perdition.
The eyes that inspect you
Search for a studded ring on your fourth finger
A sacred chain around your neck and even
Stoop down to explore if you wear toe-rings.
The symbols of marriage.
When will the world know
That if you have a man in your life
He will be the starshine in your eyes,
The colour in your skin,
Each of your breathless word
Which caresses the air?
The man who taught you
Ten thousand ways to love
Would have caused
Plenty of changes.
Yes, he will own
Your speech
And silence
And sudden
grace.
