When they told me you’d be
A Daughter
I cried.
I wanted everything
for you.
But the world cleaves life
Like an orange and
Gives its daughters
Half.
And shoves the other half
Into its mouth
Already full with fruit
Dribbling drops of precious
Hope out the sides
Slobbering the excess
That was to be your birthright
If you were a Son.
A daughter will have to
Fight
For what is given to
A Son.
Fight to be heard
Fight to be seen
as anything other than a body
Fight for half of what
A Son claims
As a right.
Fight for your life.
When they told me he’d be
A Son
I again felt a loss
Of Sisters
That would never be.
You can’t do this Alone.