Dedicated to the JUWC - first contribution
She stood alone facing the world
wondering what's to become of her now?
drowning in the quagmire of life
fighting to stay afloat
turning every which way
trying to survive
fighting for some sense of normalcy to prevail
She stood, nondescript
unworried about what others may think
"I must look a sight" she thought to herself
No makeup, hair pulled back, no fancy clothes
a worried look on her face
she caught the furtive glances of passersby
some didn't register, blank expressions, to them, she doesn't exist
some looked quickly away, not wanting to acknowledge or get involved
others, with a disdainful look on their faces
It didn't matter to her what they thought
'No sir, let them walk a mile in my shoe." she thought
let them feel the disillusionment, the pain of trying
and getting no where
It is like beating her head on a brick wall
life pulls her in and drag her down, tossed against the wall
whether she sinks or swims depends on who is there for her
who really cares what happens to her
it"s a dog eat dog world out there
every woman for themselves
Is there hope in this world?
or will her shoulders continue to be life"s dumping ground?
the ties that binds
bound against society"s tell-tale expectations
looking for a way out
the will to survive, the dream to get ahead
to live the dream that is said to be out there
for everyone to claim
if you work hard enough
The problem is not working hard at all
it's whether you have a spoon in your mouth
and shoulders to hold your weight
so that if you fall, reassuring hands will lift you up
carry you, pull you out
without question or pause
being there to offer a hand
without shunning or blame
not everyone can be perfect
shaping their lives into the model
of acceptance
no, not everyone is lucky enough to live their dreams
"Nobody knows, the trouble I feel, nobody knows my sorrows"
hummed incessantly under her breath
trying to look normal, to fit in
to not be judged
knowing that somehow, someway, someday
her dreams will be within her reach
her hands will be able to grasp
the future, hers to hold
she can feel it with every fiber of her being
one day it will be hers
Until then she continues to live
fighting to survive
before the quagmire of desolation
envelopes her
she pulls away from it
it will not be her signature
this will not be her calling card
The struggle continues..
[the poetry continues another day]
[Written by Donna aka ForeverSerenity - all rights reserved]