A woman, as Eleanor Roosevelt, the renowned politician, diplomat, activist, and the longest-serving First Lady of the US, outlined, is like a tea bag — you can’t tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water. She was absolutely spot on, and rightly so… for more reasons than one.
Or, as Edna Gardner Whyte, the American aviator, observed, “Just watch, all of you men. I’ll show you what a woman can do… I’ll go across the country, I’ll race to the Moon… I’ll never look back.”
Here goes — my poem dedicated to women who feel rather low, or a tad desolate, at times, primarily because they believe, or are made to believe, that they’re inferior.
It also lets everyone know what we, women, actually are — and, what kind of a dynamic orenda we possess.
You’re neither your beauty wear
Nor your straightened, coloured hair
Neither you’re what you pretend
Nor what the masses commend.
You’re not your polished nails
Nor your freshly perfumed trails
Neither you’re your sparkling face
Nor your wicked unsmiling grimace.
You’re what your thoughts think
The words you speak, or eyes that blink
Yeah! You’re your unswerving smile
Your humming songs while walking a mile.
You’re just your stammering talk
Your pleasant, zig-zag leisurely walk.
Oh, yes! You’re the truth in your eyes
The hope of everyone to swiftly arise.
You’re what promises you keep
Or, your occasional melancholy weep.
You’re the trust you’ve achieved
Because you’re just what you believe.
You can make tables turn
Sometimes you educate, sometimes you learn
You’re the strength of your own selves
You’re that orenda which all men just can’t possess.
You’re the polite helping hand
Of love that works like magic wand
You cannot be compared any which way
’Coz, you’re the best the way you are.
