Somewhere deep in the cave of ignorance,
Comes the echoed question.
Where are good women found?
It is asked vehemently and violently,
By a man drunk on the power of conformity.
In his faulted hazy steps,
Blocked by the giant swell of his ego,
He shouts into the abyss,
His hoarse voice drowns that of reason.
But if he kept quite long enough,
He would hear this.
That, good women are found bountifully across the earth,
That they roam all over trying to discover themselves.
That, they no longer are confined beside the hearth,
That the refuse to be shackled by men’s cells.
He will discover that,
As he was sheltered within the convincing lie,
That a woman’s place is only by his side,
They decide to grow wings.
That as he blinked, right beneath his eyes.
Came the revolution.
Good women have been found.
But now they come with a sharp tongue,
That brilliantly rivals their minds.