Still, a woman wades at the shore of a man’s sea.
When we speak it is too loud, as if we don’t know how.
Quiet’s value imprinted itself when we watched our mothers.
We say yes without listening to the question, without needing
to know what the question is.
Silence still tells us we don’t need to leave the feminine cocoon.
It is enough to watch over men, who are the butterflies.
When did we forget that death came
when we stepped into the shade swallowing dreams?
Left to hold onto the shadows of human beings,
We wait for chance to come into something we own.
We can still come out into the sun, that pours light
on the world, even on those trained to hide.
Natalie Marino is a writer, mother, and physician. She graduated with a BA in American Literature from UCLA. She has been published or has poems forthcoming in Haikuniverse, Indolent Books, Mineral Lit Mag, and Royal Rose Magazine. She lives in Thousand Oaks, California with her husband and two daughters.