Elina Cruz

Rose's Journal

May 15, 1940 Today, a deep anger awoke, a call to break away from merely represent a décor at my spouse’s arm. Sun seeped through our plush drapes, yet shadows clung to my desk where words took form under my pen. On roads, banners of Thomas Dewey were hung, the face of a man who advocates for change. My peers mocked, for them a woman’s realm stuck to home, to afternoon teas, not to places where futures are shaped.