Beyond the Woven Cage

El Miedo | Madeline Cortez | Painting

Beyond the Woven Cage By Finley Hatzfeld

From east to west, a common story unfolds,

The threads are old, spun tight.

Knitted bars around our hearts, bodies, minds.

And they say “Don’t you dare cross these lines.”

“Be a man,” they roar loudly.

Stoic, no room for tears here.

But even statues show their cracks.

And without mending, they will surely break their backs.

Or the backs of others

As the patriarchs murmur beneath skin.

Where “Be a woman,” is what they coo,

Voices thick with honey.

A porcelain doll, docile, fragile.

Cracked and broken,

By years of oppression.

They hold us tight.

And when one chooses to fight?

Down comes the heavy hand.

A not-so gentle reminder,

In this world, we should not take a stand.

Across borders and cold waters,

A silent hum,

Different tongues, same song.

Women, never the architect, always the muse,

Men, always a battle cry, never a melody.

Both, unable to break past their concrete molds.

Yet, like its men and its women,

The patriarchy has its cracks,

From which roses grow.

Where flowers have their thorns,

And thorny stems give way to petals.

He dares to nurture,

She dares to lead.

And now the cages must rust,

And the bars revealed as illusion.

As they were built on sandy platforms,

Grains of confusion.

For we are much more than our labels

And we must no longer be described

First as just men or women,

But human.