My needles caress each other
leading on coloured threads.
a hobby, my fate or some curse?
I let the perceived role
of the woman decide?
A tool, a slave, a toy
Is that my worth?
From where do my answers come?
Ancient tradition or modern change?
Ancient tradition bequeathed me roles;
Roles I humbly bore
with no clenched teeth
beneath my sweaty brow.
Modern change came, saw and took me
to the mountain side;
Transporting me to a troubled present
from where I look and ask-
was I a tool, a slave, a toy?
Career woman, intellectual woman.
Man’s threat, this enfant terrible
challenging and destroying
the sculptured status quo.
Your time is ripe but thread softly.
Remember your needles,
your silky threads.
What to do with them I will not say