The Conquerer – Yasintha, Form 5
Poverty, rejection, pain, worthless…
that’s all I’ve been hearing about
down the street.
She hushed her voice to listen to their provoking,
she tarnished her noise just to please their mocking.
She is a victim of pain, denial, trial,
all she ever knows is being exposed to
a world that’s wild.
Why? Why? Why?
Why rip her heart from her chest and consume her?
Don’t you know
when you insult a woman,
you insult the womb that carried you?
Who in the world told you
you can bite off the hand that feeds you? Fights for you?
They tell her breathing means she’s alive…
…but breathing, for her, means she can
long enough to survive.
But then, she rises above her pain, her sorrow,
brushes down her worry, getting herself in check,
always ready for tomorrow.
No way was she going to be stifled and
left to wither like a dying rose.
She cares for you, cries with you,
stands by you!
She is a mother, she is a wife, she is a fighter.
They call her ‘Prey’, they call her ‘Nothing,
but I call her
‘Beautiful’, I call her ‘Smart’, I call her ‘Caring’, I call her ‘Daring’,
because she is special in every way.
She is a woman. She is The Conqueror.