Insurance Claim

Seldom
does she ask for favors
but when she does,
it is backed by an insurance called:
“If you can’t, don’t worry
I got it,”
and she does.

Understand, sacred texts
refer to her as “help meet,”
male egos transpose her flesh
into just meat,
but her womanhood
can’t subscribe to either.

Her ether,
is in the realm of leaders,
warriors,
and achievers.
Therefore, she has no time
for dreamers,
bickerers,
nor deceivers.

She’s constructed herself
with adamantine belief
you mistake for being
prudish,
stubborn and hard-nosed.
Truth is,
she’s heard enough of Judas,
seen enough of Brutus
to not superimpose
her own brutish
into her being,
savage into her seams.

She,
has hard-boiled eyes
that has never cracked
over the yoke she has borne
through the years,
so what makes you think
any part of you
is worth her tears?

Truth is,
she’s blueprint
for incompliant,
has a hard time being pliant
to your feeble frame of mind
so she can’t picture
being in need of you.

So if you can’t fathom
a woman composed
of less damsel than damnation,
less heaven than hell;
if you can’t imagine
a woman so whole,
holy becomes an understatement,
a religion you can’t sell;
if you can’t compute
a woman with enough
assurance in herself
that she doesn’t need to
buy your validation;
if you can’t,
don’t worry.
She’s got it.

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