I do not know a lot of things
Like viscera reports and forensics
Paleontology … sounds absurd
Quantum physics is surely worse
Biology practicals, trust me I tried
The world of organs that dwell inside.
Why wars are fought, why nations wince
Why terror rears up and humanity shrinks.
Why nations edge to the brink of war, what causes pain
Who wields the greatest power of them all, but then again
I know not how many men it takes
to tame one woman.
I do know the purple of a setting sun
The whistle of the moon when night is done
The smiling voices that greet my day
The hands that hold me, in work or play
Those souls who matter, the hearts that care
The stillness when I imagine you here
The words I speak with true intent
The life I lead so intemperate
Mixed on earth with wind and rain
And sometimes my words are said in vain
But I do know no man
should try to tame a woman.
P.S. I am generally not in the habit of explaining my poetry. But I felt I had to add a foot-note to this one. This poem was ‘inspired’ by the memory of a conversation I had with an acquaintance years ago when he set about trying to convince me that all women need to be tamed first by the father, then brothers and later husbands etc etc etc (he also believed in female circumcision but that’s another story, another poem) and I had this huge fall out that left me storming out of the place where we were and him screaming that that was exactly the kind of woman he would never wish his sisters to be! I hope his sisters are well and have turned out un-tamed. Yes, that.