Poem: Blame to the Innocent

This is a poem about the finger-pointing and blame that women have historically been subjected to.

In the shadows of history, we silently stood,

Shouldering the weight of misunderstood,

For in a world that often seeks to assign,

Blame to the innocent, our hearts align.

From Eve in Eden, to Joan of Arc's pyre,

The pages of history, smudged with the mire,

Of tales where women were labeled the source,

Of troubles and woes, both great and of course.

But truth be told, and with wisdom we know,

Women aren't architects of every woe,

We bear the weight of collective blame,

A heavy cross, yet we rise just the same.

In the eyes of society's unforgiving stare,

We're blamed for choices that aren't always fair,

Out bodies, our voices, our dreams held hostage,

In a world where the truth is often a mirage.

Blamed for the weeping skies and drought,

When we're not the ones who cast it out,

For natural forces, beyond our control,

Blaming us for storms is a flawed, biased role.

Blamed for the strife and wars that ignite,

When the decisions of peace lie out of sight,

Our hearts and souls ache for a world at peace,

Yet it's leaders, not women, where these troubles increase.

Blamed for desires, for dreams, and for wants,

For speaking our minds, for holding no taunts,

In a world that demands perfection in each breath,

Women blamed for embracing life's depth.

Yet strength we've found in this strife,

Like the phoenix, we rise from the ashes of life,

For in the crucible of blame, we discover our fire,

A resilience and grace that will never tire.