A life of burden,

Bitter cup to be drunk till it’s dregs consumed

All that is the legacy of Eve.

The once proud mother,

Must now be bowed with grief over the legacy she’s bequeathed her daughters.

A woman’s back, bowed with care,

The weights of the world she carries within her and on her back.

The fears for her children, will they grow, be successful, will the world see your worth and value?

Doomed to feel the stripes of every forgotten word and the sting of those better left unspoken.

This is the legacy of the daughters of Eve.

Children born of drops of blood, of our pain, our suffering.

Silent tears for those who never made it out our wombs, and for those that did but wasted the gift.

The burden of a lifetime entrenched in the lines on our faces, around our eyes, around our mouths.

A cup, too often bitter, only briefly disrupted by the sweetness life can bring.

The warm smile of a loved one, the tiny fingers of a newborn, the bright bursts of laughter from a lover, the pleasure of leisure.

As I look over this life, the only one I have,

I question my contempt of it.

What supreme trust must be endowed to me, to be entrusted with the gift of womanhood.

The power of femininity, it’s joys and sorrows are mine to bare, to convey to a world that so often forgets 

That while it may be a man’s world, we give it rhythm. 

A pulsating heart to disrupt the dark.

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