INDICTMENT©

This.  Only minutes after
She had blessed the space around us
With groans and moans from
The fauna of her soul
And
Tears and laughter
From the flora that was her personality.
Whether real or for my benefit.

I ignore the scream.
Who? Me?
Laughing.
Playing.
I who have a mother.
Sisters.
An ex-wife I still love.
Daughters.
And numerous friends?

Yes, those.
The friends.
Why do you hate them.

The laughter stopped.
The playing,
Over.
My response,
Silent.
The question was for her,
Not for me.
A friend told me.
Later.

Perhaps.
I pondered the question then.
Not knowing where
My thoughts would lead me.
Trying to sleep.
Succeeding only in viewing my wonderment
Through a fog of
Unconfronted emotion.

Why do I hate women?!!!!!
I, who have insisted
On being
An unselfish lover.           (Wasn't I?)
I, who consider rape
The most hideous of
Barbaric, unforgivable sins
And would decree death
To every violator
Were I so empowered.

I, who...

I who
Held in my arms
The woman who had asked that
Preposterous question.

My eyes remained closed,
My perplexity, unspoken.
How can you, dear lady,
Rest serenely in the arms of a man
You deem hate women?
Your body,
By your own admission
Satiated
By what you must consider to be merely
An instrument for vaginal violence.

It's that horrendous befuddlement again.
Is it inherently a part of homo-sapiens, female
An evolutionary curse,
To endure the
Decatant egocentric effrontery
Of homo sapiens,  male?
Or is it merely an illogical extension
Of a world gone mad,
Where women have long been the
Object of too much
Subservience and
Sexual violence?

Why do I hate women?
I don't.
I just wish they were more perfect
And
Less tolerant of men
Who
Behaved as if they hated women.

By BW

Copyright 2002 by
BW & Bendricks International
All Rights Reserved
 

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