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A Letter to Esme
The world was on your side
When you were young and pretty
And small enough for them to handle
The world was on your side
When you were nothing
But a little girl, a dainty cherub to be marveled at
An ornament that smiled and waved
And never talked back
But the world left your side
When you grew tall, when you
Let your hair out of pigtails, when you
Learned that you could rearrange the order
Of polite society
With your voice alone
The world left your side
When they discovered that
Rather than staying small
When they constrained you, you
Grew until you burst out
Of the glass box which held you back and
Sprayed broken shards right back at them
You shall live the remainder of your life
As an outcast, your name
Shall become a whisper and a shake of a head
And a pitiful sigh
Those who once loved you shall
Look at you with judgment
And hatred in their eyes
Terrified of what you have become
For they have never heard
The lament of Medea
The protests of Iphis
The battle-cry of Cænis
They have never heard
The song of the sirens
The charm of Venus
The spells of Circe
Someday, perhaps
You shall be free
To be strong as you please, to
Unleash your rage, to
Sing your anthem
To the world
Without fear of judgment
But now, my dear
You must be content
With the world
As your enemy
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This is a letter to an imaginary recipient; I chose the name Esme because it sounded powerful. By "the world," I do not mean the Earth or society in general, but instead Esme's figurative "world," or her society and former support system that turned on her. I believe that there exist many societies like Esme's that are confused by the notion of a woman being strong and cannot seem to equate femininity with strength.