SHE!
SHE
Her own woman
She blazes like a luminous moon
Irradiating the world she revolves around
She is the baby girl who twirls her doting dad
round her little finger, lisping love words in his ears
She pirouettes in her frilly pink dress, the cherubic little
miss
The studious school girl next reading till late at night
She is a wizard with computers deftly solving physics
problems
While trying out her mama's high heels and lipstick like a
clown
She is her own woman soon
Who will not bow to patronizing male superiority
Highest scorer in her business classes
Debating and declaiming with panache
Sassy young dreamer with a cocky gait and stance
Eve teasers give her a wide berth for her judo chops she
flaunts
Whenever a roadside Romeo decides to whistle and ogle
Her jeans may be frayed and faded, her brain is razor
sharp
She won't forget a kindness but if you try and act smart
Remember her karate black belt is adorning the showcase at
home
The CEO of the biggest corporate houses
juggling motherhood and foreign tours
Eating at the classiest eating houses the world has ever
known
She cooks only if she wants to for her husband does it better!
Her clear eyes speak volumes of the superior soul she
harbors
Her gym trained body well toned doesn't need any
godfathers
She is the female of the species and is deadlier than the
male
Rudyard Kipling knew her, she won't waste breath on
discussions
Going straight for the kill is what she does instinctively.
I am trying desperately to be like her
For I am also my own woman!
Fool Moon -- Dorina Costras
The Female of the Species
ReplyDeleteWhen the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other's tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.
Man, a bear in most relations—worm and savage otherwise,—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.
Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue—to the scandal of The Sex!
But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.
She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells—
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.
She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.
She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.
Unprovoked and awful charges—even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!
So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.
And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.
--Rudyard Kipling