She climbed down from the ladder
“Too high for you, eh?” shouted the onlookers
and musing in haughty tones they departed
but to her, their ignorance never mattered
As she became determined to break their will
her soul rose higher every day
a spirit choking on depreciation, sexism
and intolerance had its fill
she marched not with the masses
but sat with the myriads of ink on the shelves
Orion had to tell her to sleep
as slumber overcame her crooked glasses
While the populace ranted and raved
for temporary things like wealth and wages
she remained quiet and composed
understanding her place
Hawthorne in her lap, Bronte by her side
they could not see the power she already had
and eventually would gain all she desired
yes, it was her time
One night, while the men slept
unaware their presumed authority was about to be taken
and the divine order demanding to be shaken
a pair of dashing feet carried a still sleeping body
through the city of her youth
past the doors that slammed shut
unacceptant of female verse
past the home of the priest
who preached acceptance by Jesus yet denied her presence in church
she reached the middle of the town
and ascended the ladder once more
with every step, her hair was tangled
and dress mangled
but defiant to both god and man
she carried her book her heart
a spear in her hand
and blasting through the glass ceiling
she paved the way for others like her
to write their own stories
and set in motion a new beginning
Reblogged this on Creative Writing Reblogged.
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You are a amazing writer. I have enjoyed your work this morning.
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Thank you John. Appreciate you taking the time to read.
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Your words worthwhile and with great meaning. I would buy your book.
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Why thank you
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