The Freedom Of Choice Poem by Aimanu B. Ali

I am taught to be modest,
to obey, never to protest.
Being a woman
I am expected to be a meek minion.
It is my fate to be subservient,
to be in doldrums, not dominant.
I am given the freedom of choice
but do not see any reason to rejoice.
Father, brother, husband and son,
they care not, though in a caring way if my soul is torn
by their insanity.
They are so busy protecting my virginity.
My own, they buy me veils
turn a nelson's eye when my soul wails.

I am forced to live in deception,
yet made to believe this is the inception
of a happier life
unto which I must strive,
though tortured and abused incessantly
bearing with my torments silently.
A woman of dignity
I must be happy and content in my servility.
For I have the freedom of choice
to weep upon my plight or to rejoice.
I am a bird in a cage
but nothing can subdue the rage
that has gathered in me over the years
like a volcano ready to erupt with fires.
The indomitable self is resolved to fight,
they can not deny me my right.