At the age of five, she learned
That the world was only an oyster for men.
Its pearls of wisdom were his alone,
To reap and manipulate as he wished.

Her brothers left for school, full of puerile complaints
And she, enviously from a corner stared.
Bitterness was born in her then, and would stay,
Yet no complaint issued from her subdued lips.

Resigned not to fate, but to the will of males,
She lived life as they dictated.
She cooked, cleaned and bathed the children
All the while treated like a cur, a curse.

Everyday her presence was customarily dismissed.
She made tea. She washed the clothes.
Thankless, leering faces turned to her momentarily
Then shifted their eyes to more momentous things.

At night, in the solitude of her dreams,
She envisaged a life that was hers alone.
With morning light the visions dissipated,
As ephemeral as mayflies.

She looked at her daughter, a joyous bundle at three.
In time, she would have to learn too.
That the world was only an oyster for men
No woman could pry apart those rigid lips.

She wished she could teach her otherwise,
But it was the only way she knew life.