Sometimes by Hania Anwar
Sometimes
by Hania Anwar
Sometimes
I wish I was born a
Man
in true Plath-ian fashion
to roam the desolate fields
at Dusky Dawn
without the gripping fear
of being stripped bare and
Torn
If I were a Man I wonder
would I fight half as much with my mother?
Would she chastise me for not wordlessly helping
around the house were I a Son and not a
daughter?
Would my father have turned away the childish outstretched hand
that reached towards his noisy busy factory
were I a Son and not a
daughter?
If I were a Man
would I have worried about unborn children
part of un-lived futures and the thousand ways I would
Fail them?
The only reason Rhett could say he didn’t
“Give a damn”
was because he was a Man
I was born with all the Damns in the world crammed into me
Until I began to
Choke
More from Hania Anwar ↓
- @wanderings.in.words on Instagram
- @BeeInMyBonnet on Substack
Mentioned in this episode:
One Poem Only submissions are open.
This round, I’m looking for poems about what remains. What stays with us when we experience change? What survives? What do we yearn to carry forward? Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. Also, if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. Submit a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space—no perfect studio recording required. And yes, your poem can have been previously published in a literary magazine, in print, or on social media. Submissions close Thursday, October 29. I’ll respond by Wednesday, November 11. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you have to share.
