Women.

A burden they say,
As we hold our feminine eyes above the others,
Harlots! Oh, you modern jezebel,
We lower our gaze to meet the tattered pavement.

Thy race is inferior, nothing but slaves!
As they burn their stares into the nape of our necks,
Our meagre fingers clutch the baskets that speak our existence,
To thy husband you shall return.

Idiot! Return and take care of thy children,
As we crawl back into the haven of our homes,
To be met by rage and fury unbounded,
With his hands clasping a whip.

Weak! Pathetic little scamp,
We caress our wounds, a mere whisper of a breath,
Tears cloud our eyes, to flow in seeds of pain,
Tender slurs begin to envelope our thoughts.

Hush, little women,
Do not surrender this strength,
For what is a woman?
Thy not a walking brothel,
Nor thy ought to be barraged by slander,

Thy not a temptress of the night,

Nor thy a mule to be lashed at every step.

For thou are angels,
With beauty so ethereal,
For thou are mysteries,
To be ravaged by the imagination,
For thou are warriors,
With hearts that could engulf the sun.

For thou are women,
Maidens of heaven.

by Nazeera Nasir

This poem is dedicated to all the impoverished, abused women of the world. Being here in Egypt makes me realize that women are different all over the world, some are treated like malikas of the house while some are treated by slaves of the night. It is a shame really, the lack of education, the egoistic traits of a so called masculinity and the blind faith that we follow that teaches us it's okay to abuse.

There are still societies that deem it acceptable to physically raise your hand to your wife, beating her senseless until her blood trickles from her orifices. Where to see marks on a woman's face is almost a norm, bludgeoned by god-knows what.

Sickening?

No...

It's just plain revolting.

...and you call yourselves civilized...