Author: Yellow Beams
i
do you think of women when you look at the sun-setting sky?
a half moment which lasts a good amount of time,
if only you pay some mind.
like how the potential of a girl,
can only be seen when you spare a piece of your time
to give her a good study.
then you decide,
“ah - isn’t she phenomenal,
how very unusual for her kind”
running on the same field of admiration,
eyes steered by blindness’ attention; how can you marvel in her direction
but not notice her arched back
and dark under eyes?
from working all her might,
for this singular sight.
thank god.
at least now the world knows.
ii
do you think of women when you look at the sun-setting sky?
a fleeting red of beauty,
but sometimes so bright it can scare me.
like how a woman is perceived,
when she’s on rear of a chariot filled
with the weight of earth entirely.
an attempt at being exemplary
grit, strength, all of the qualities
just to be misunderstood - mistaken for an ablaze wildfire
“what a mighty temper”
can you give me an answer, to why when a woman displays an ounce of courage
it is always mistaken as rage
as if red only portrays anger
not rigour.
iii
how much would you bet,
for her to make it back before the sun sets,
bound for home to assume the role she left off
atop her head lays an ambition
but for now there are bellies to be filled
bellies, she decided were always going to be more important than her dreams
and we ball it all into a mother’s sacrifice
all the while she plasters on a smile
to admit in bold
in the end i am just a woman
