I Too Am a Woman

I call you; you don't show.

I stand adrift in the darkness, lights flickering around me as I wait alone at your door, my voice echoing down the hallway, unanswered.

She calls you, and you come running.

Chaos swirls, woman in distress.

Have you no eyes?

I too am woman.

Do you not see or simply pretend not to notice?

The sway of my voluptuous hips. The plumpness of my lips. The fragrance that escapes my pores. My voluminous hair swishes in the wind.

What more must I do to bring light into my own cave? How can I make my longing and hope for rescue shine as brightly as hers?

It will do me no good to see you ill. Nor will it delight me to see you lose.

I only wish you knew we all have a right to be safe, do we not?

Why then do you overlook me?

You decide when I am seen and when I vanish, as if my need for safety and comfort is nothing but a passing whim.

Your reluctance leaves me exposed, anxious, uncertain whether I am protected or truly seen.