January 21st
Today
millions of my sisters have donned pink pommed caps and swarm the globe singing
songs of solidarity.
Today they
air dirty patriarchal laundry.
While I..
I stand alone amid a million domestic chores
after a million hours worked.
There was
no energy for the conversation,
to give
the million reasons why
I
should be somewhere else.
Even in a
pseudo liberated society,
marriage
conforms to antiquated roles.
So, I stay
in my suburban safe-house surrounded
by
first world blessings
and
frustrations.
Only my body is here,
Going
through the motions.
Faking it.
Heart
wears a pink, fuzzy, fierce pussy hat.
Mind
shouts snarky slogans.
Spirit sings
Chants
Howls
Calling bra burning mothers
Civil
rights grandmas
Great
grandmother suffragettes
Matriarchs
of the burning tymes
Pagan
Bellatrix
Priestesses
and goddesses from before the world was linear.
When stories and legends had
beginnings
Endings
And beginnings again.
This wave
of feminine force has crashed upon the shores before;
Has pulled
small bits and pieces of oppression into the deep,
Only then,
that force subsided into a pool of compromise
Acceptance of
Marriage proposals
Promotions
Titles
Eighty-three
cents
change for
a
dollar
So, my
beautiful strong sisters, I ask you.
What’s
next?
After the
streets are swept of colorful hand crafted protest signs
And hats
are hung on hooks.
After
millions are reduced to one, the rights for which our aunt-cestors fought
are
still at stake.
Now what?
After the
storm,
be
the raindrop.
One voice
One
phone call,
one letter,
after another
after
another
after another..
copyright
Jennifer MasonGambitta 2017
