My word for the poetry thing for February that I’m doing ( #poemadayfeb ), is Burden. I didn’t have any difficulty at all, coming up with something to write about. The themes around what happens to women when menfolk seek sweeter pasture and younger fillies is such a common one …
I’m happy to report that my marriage is sound, and we are both happy with our thirty plus years since our wedding … Things change, but we have changed with them, doing some of the same things together, other things separately, but (almost) always meeting up again when it’s time to go to sleep.
I certainly know of other women whose experiences with husbands has been quite different to mine, and I hear stories of horrific ways that things can go wrong. When I hear about mature women who are living in their car, out of a suitcase, I am appalled.
I can barely imagine how I may manage if I were left is such a position, and know it is highly unlikely that will happen to me. I know it could happen though, you can never really know how life may hit you, but my circle of family and friends is a wide one, and I feel secure enough.
I know there are homeless men, living in a homeless shelter, and having to move on during the day, and go back for the night. These men are easily recognisable, I see on often around the town I visit often, but I don’t notice women is similar circumstances.
There are women out there though, every day, probably, a woman may flee from the home she thought she had for the rest of her life, when her partner turns on her, and she fears for her life … I am a long way away from that position, thankfully, and I am grateful.
Anyway, here is my poem, based on the day’s prompt, BURDEN
thinking of burdens …
You name her a burden, that you don’t want to carry –
you riducule her, mislead, abuse and ignore.
She holds to promises folk make when they marry,
hadn’t thought this end might come, that’s for sure …
But she’ll soldier on, because that’s what we do,
caring for others, whether they deserve it or not
and when it’s the end, and his vows prove untrue,
who’s the one left sitting in the sweetest spot?
It’s him, although he’ll claim he’s been fleeced –
statistics though, will reveal the actual proof.
On break up, women usually left with the least,
many of them stranded without even a roof.
We carry his children, we deal with his needs;
we hope for true love, but manage with less,
he thrives, she works, she aches and bleeds
then he dumps her, because she’s looking a mess.
He new babe is perfect, his dumped one, a bitch,
their children confused, the hatred damaging –
she suffers the blame, his life continues, no hitch –
he’s going great, ex wife & kids barely managing …
Carolyn Cordon - Creative 