WAR STORIES OF A SINGLE WOMAN ©
By Arose N Daghetto
It’s not easy being a veteran soldier
battling on the frontlines of single life…
The longings, the urges,
the wanting to be wanted,
the needing to be needed,
the loving to be loved…
Living life solo doesn’t compare
To living life spoken for…
There are no purple hearts
only broken hearts.
There are no salutations,
no tributes to my victories
or my fatalities…
See my wounds?
I got this discolored one
across my stomach
when I was a POW:
Prisoner Of being a Woman.
I got this other one along my side
when I was MIA:
Misrepresented In America.
The long welts all over my back
were the number of times
I’ve been whipped by karma
The footprints all over my body?
Well, that’s when I was
pounced on by chauvinism
and strung up by my own burka
I was sentenced
to female circumcision
Sent back to my homeland
castrated by a man called Black…
I’m caught like a deer in headlights
Trapped in a den of wolves…
Some have HIV
Others have another STD
They’re out to get me…
If I make it out here alive
Proposing to abstinence.
This ugly scar between my breasts
is from all the open heart surgeries
performed by the Great Physician.
He had to exhume my blackened heart
and replace it with a new one…
It was a long process
that took several operations
in order to be reconciled with my body
so I could make it out of intensive care
and into recovery.
People say I’m not missing out on anything
I’d like to see them say that
when they put themselves in my shoes.
I want to see how tough they are
surviving days without the very people
who make their identity;
Their husband and their children.
Let’s see if they can make it twenty-four hours
Being manless, sexless and childless.
Tell me if they won’t crack up
if they don’t drop dead first
from a massive panic attack.
I can handle those things
because I was born to be a soldier…
preparing for combat is my specialty,
fighting to the death is all I know
I was cultivated that way by society.
I learned the hard way
how to speak up for myself,
and how to handle men
Who like to beat on women.
I take pride in being a soldier
because I have the ability to go without
longer than anybody else can.
There are times I wish I can be a civilian…
I heard a lot about the benefits
to being a lady.
I try to conduct myself as one
but certain circumstances
won’t allow me to be one for long…
I have to cuss people out
after being stood up.
I have to live with being the target
for lovers to execute their PDA in front of…
I spend more time being Superman
than being Superwoman.
I have a lot of Lois Lanes to rescue…
I’m beginning to think I really am
Who has time to be a woman.
when you gotta be the trinity:
mother, father, breadwinner.
That’s how I earned the title Superman
‘cause I can do it all and do it well.
So I must really be a man
wrapped in a woman’s flesh…
a veteran soldier designed for combat
who has plenty of ammunition
(in my mouth and my fists).
There is only one more thing I need
to make my look complete…
and that’s a pair of cast iron balls.
Poem (not pictures) © Copyright 2008, 2011 by Arose N Daghetto for Quiet Storm Enterprise. All Rights Reserved.