Helpless. Defenseless.
Dismayed. Defeated.
I flee the street,
‘Hey, lady, give me a kiss.”
Young arrogant men.
“Why won’t you talk to me?”
Taunted, ridiculed, rejected by men
I escape to my home:
my prison, my haven.
I’m dust-thick in the process
of dying to self
on these dirty streets
where dogs and women
share too much in common.
Helpless. Defenseless.
Dismayed. Undefeated.
You dragged a cross
through streets just as dusty.
“Hey, man, you saved others,
can’t you save yourself?”
Taunted, ridiculed, rejected by men.
you submitted
and lived in the process
of dying to self
Dying for them.
Dying for me.
©2002 Thrive
View the original print magazine where this article was first published.
