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the devil is a woman
and she is wicked, they say
you will look in her eyes
and on your heart she will prey
the devil is a woman
and she is bewitching, they say
you will let her inside
and she will lead you astray
the devil is a woman
and she is a liar, they say
you will mean her well
and in your soul is drawn to play
the devil is a woman
and she made me do it, they say
she is not a good one
everyone knows – i pray.
Race and class identity create differences in quality of life, social status, and lifestyle that take precedence over the common experience women share.
bell hooks, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center
Written as part of a summer assignment for the MA Gender, Media and Culture course at Goldsmiths University of London 2021-2022. Inspired by the quote above.
the king shouts from across the deck
“take a good look, men!”
a storm rages over the wreck
for the honour you defend.
three sheets to the wind!
the men say
in victory, we return!
and they shall sing and they shall prance -
o the glory we have earned.
crack 'er open!
the men say
the race has just begun!
barrels of wine with a feast to pair
- a true celebration
the king calls on his concubine
"a woman like no other"
skin that looked and felt like snow
and a smile like the perfect summer
day after day night after night
the seige raged on! an unimaginable plight -
she waits in my quarters and to her arms I return
the comfort of a good woman
outside the sky splits!
like a dagger through the heart -
a deafening growl
then thorns rained down
and the night now forlorn
“there’s a crack in the hull!”
shouts the watchman from the mast
and then the celebration ends.
suddenly alerted, charged the men
against a piercing blast
the king, leading the pack,
rushed out into the tempest
their vessel broke in harrowing pain
for deluge births a deafening silence
can you hear that?
the deckhand asks as he approached the edge
a song so loud and resonant
but all who hear it is dead
walk the plank and there you see
women of dark energy
come hither, come hither whispers she
and you shall drown in anarchy
they hear the song! they do, they see!
sing the women in the sea
the concubine and the deckhand jump!
much to the dismay of the king
one day, a storm may rage
our vessel may break
and leave behind a wreck
hear the song of the sea
the sea of people
of people like you and me
hear it from them
hear their story
honour the song of the sea
i can hear everything in here
though they never said we could
the deafening silence, the wilted tear –
unsaid and understood
the door is far away
fading out of reach
in a desert oasis
embrace and burn and leave
i can hear everything in here
but no one can hear me
they say the world ends in fire
but the fire will preserve me
it calls for me
this solitude, a tightening of the heart
coming and going, one step closer –
and again, i will see her
i make the box heavy
with the torment i leave behind
yet the air is still
crisp and clear
and awaits me with open arms
Vale – /ˈvɑːleɪ/ Latin, ‘be well!, be strong!’, imperative of valere
