SHREWS AND SAINTS

SHREWS AND SAINTS

There are two sorts of wives,

shrews or saints,

but only one sort of husband,

he who must be obeyed,

not teased or slighted.

Saints of course submit.

Shrews though, must fake it.

I wonder what other role

I could have chosen

since equality is impossible

And isolation difficult.

I am no saint

and I would rather not be a shrew,

but in the end, saint or shrew,

we part our legs and let men in.

It is in receiving that we give birth

and in giving birth we submit

to our children's future

arbitrated by our men.

It seems that we are made to receive.

Alas! The curse of women

for as the New Testament says -

'It is better to give than to receive.'

I would like to be a giver -

though not of blows.

I could be an arbitrator too perhaps?

I cannot find a just marriage however,

to predicate as a possible solution

to the problem of marital disharmony.

Perhaps that is why God

advised men to pull rank?

Pity that it leaves woman as antithesis.

Copyright Ruth Hartley 1980? Independence Avenue, Lusaka

AUTUMN MORNING

AUTUMN MORNING

When the alarm’s blood curdling cry

caesars open the womb of the bed

I am born into the darkness of night.

When uncomfortable day squints

from its perch on the western street light

I open my ears and hear the sound

of car engines shifting in the direction of work.

When the sun reluctant with excuses

sticks it neck out of the east I

close up my dreams.

I must make a late start

to yet another winter.

Copyright Ruth Hartley 2012 Work in progress.