When I was born

How it feels to be a woman sometimes:

When I was born I didn’t have a name, save for joy and prickling pain
The autumn rain fell in my eyes, and the world sighed
For my name stole my voice.
In the early dawn, I loved the sky’s blue and was wrong
I was surely weak as you were strong,
But it’s easy when you are the only one speaking.
Meeting, my face was all that mattered
It’s easy to shatter when I realise you do not care to hear.
I cannot even walk alone unbending through the city streets,
Unwinding down the village roads, you are deaf wherever I go.

Walking towards dusk, I whisper and others can hear
The sunset is scarlet cirrus and for once I feel pity
You peer at my lined face but you are blind to the beauty
That a woman can hear.
Perhaps it is hard to always be talking, working and wanting
But what greater crime can there be to refuse and refuse to hear
A voice which begs to be heard?