I will not bow to your fear,

your tidy, preconceived notions.

A man’s tale,

handed down for generations.

In your fantasy, you made us from your rib.

We tempted you with the fruit

of wisdom, though that part

was conveniently buried in riddles.

No wonder

you name us with ease:

witch.

bitch.

whore.

All is becoming clear:

men hiding us behind sheets,

controlling our sex,

harassing with ease.

It is fear.

It is sadness.

It is low self-esteem.

For to love a woman is to love yourself.

But let’s check the score:

Mother Earth.

Mother, pushing life into this world.

Mother, the one you search for your whole life.

And now, in this world, in this time,

we do not need more strife.

Misandry? Never.

Just here to remind you:

Without Mother,

there is no life.