To be a woman of your own will

It is not an easy thing- To be a woman of steel and softness. To carry a mind forged in fire And a heart that bruises like rose-petal skin. The world does not know What to do with such a woman. She speaks, and they flinch. She dreams, and they scorn. She loves deeply- And still, they call her selfish. For every step forward, She is asked to shrink. For every truth she speaks, She is told to hush. To please. To bend. To fold into the shape of someone else's comfort. They say a woman cannot lead and love. Cannot burn with ambition And cradle the hearts of others too. But oh- if only they knew The quiet wars she wages, Just to be whole. Marriage looms like a crossroad- A vow wrapped in sacrifice, And the man she loves? The one she has stitched into her every hope? To lose him would tear the very breath from her. But must she always be the one To surrender? To let go of the self she fought so hard to know? Which way shall she go? Shall she dim the light in her soul To keep the peace in his world? Or walk alone, fierce and aching, With her truth held tightly to her chest? And tell me- Why is it so simple for men? Why are their fires fanned, While hers must be smothered In the name of love?