Born of love

I am born of love,

Yet trapped by the wretchedness of words.

My identity was already chosen at birth.

Before my lips could form a single word,

Before my ears could interpret a single phrase.

My differences set me apart in so many ways.

The only one my attention would grab,

Is the sexual differences for which I have.

And because I'm a woman, the significance is slender.

I am always reduced to the roles of my gender.

But why does a woman’s body cause so much strife?

When it is from her womb, that breeds more life.

Is purity only pure when one describes it as white?

Is the truth only pleasant when referred to as light?

If the antithesis thereof is darkness,

What have we done?

Shaping a language of mystery with the flex of our tongue.

But if uncertainty is offered as the lacking of light,

Curiosity can be born, but only at night.

Where the discovery ahead offers new insight.

So in a world that speaks of the light as good,

Darkness is only what has yet to be understood.

Neither one better than the other,

‘Cause differences are what unites one another.

Just as I am different than that of a man

I do, with my body, only what I can.