THE BROKEN RIB

There goes the broken rib
Of strengths- unknown
Un-sormountable courage
To walk paths none dare
On steps, stripped- her ego lay
Calm to the stare of toads
And tongue of chameleons
But she forced her trods on.

She treads, she prods
Forcing her crushed ego on
For the walk of faith on broken stairs
Crushed, stripped, bared
Wasted- a man's broken rib
Broken- as egg shells
Shells inimical to strengths- of women
Yet, she forces her proddings on.

Of grace, she is a swan
Her strengths: not of muscles
Neither in ached joints or bruised feet
Swimming in seas of purpose
Legacies and full waists
Braids computing figures on a sixth scale
Weakness is strength- strength is purpose
When you force steps, implored on.

Mediocrity dies a thousand deaths
Timidity is barnished to exile lands
For she must win hearts
In her daily walk and work
The levity of tasks- not minding
Accolades are her dearest wish
If Maya, Ophrah, Serena and Adichie lives,
The resilience of women must live on.

WRITTEN BY:
©Uduak Otongaran.
July, 2015

picture by Nigel Pavitt