"Woman to Woman"

Woman to Woman" She looks at her— same skin, same pain, but sees a rival, not a reflection. Her words, not knives, but sharper still— coated in “advice,” dripping with will to shrink her down, to dim her light, as if only one woman can stand in the sun at a time. She calls her bold, but not with pride— her tone twists it into reckless and wild. She sees strength but calls it loud, sees confidence and calls it proud. Why does her freedom taste like threat? Why does another woman’s rise feel like a debt? She forgets, perhaps, they chained us all the same— just gave us different locks and whispered different names. But instead of breaking them, she holds the key, and locks another woman with envy’s decree. Woman to woman— not sister, not shield. But judge. But wall. But battlefield.