Intrepid is when he's gone and I must define
Who I am, like a ship floundering at sea
Without a sail, a widow who must
Make her way, be recognized
As capable of speaking
Earning her keep
By her own
Hand
Loyalty
Has made me
Into a recluse
Not an excuse but my armor
For questioning stares and glares
From insecure women, there's a lot of them
Widowhood is my pallbearer into the unknown future
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem