By Simran Bance.
I look to the past and see my women,
making our weapons, our bullets our guns,
the steaming oil pumping their bloods,
a system of cogs they work, overrun,
I look to the past and see my women,
a soaring strength yet undermined,
stitching the sorrows of fallen soldiers,
as eyes over the enemy lines.
I turn now to see my women,
looking upwards to men on marble thrones,
who sit at the table of politics and war,
with medals to spare and too many to own.
I see my women forgotten and used,
in wars created by the decision of men,
a dire hunger and greed for power,
with lives as pawns until the end.
And a time where my women now think for themselves,
and fight for the things they lack,
the men they had birthed who rule the thrones,
now laugh and turn their backs.
Comments