A poem by my sister.

As the title of this post suggests, my sister Liz Ryan (soon to be Gibson!!) wrote this today and sent it to me after a conversation about my blog and related things :) She's pretty awesome, and a great writer! She's also spot on with this gem. You can find more of her awesomeness here: lizryan4.wordpress.com

Enjoy!

I am a woman
and I cry.
A lot.
These two things may seem unrelated
(or maybe not)
but for me they're intimately 
connected.
Historically, women are known for it.

Crying, feeling too deeply,

they were (or are) feminine trademarks

which made females prone to  hysteria,

the weaker sex. 

A woman in my class

said that because of the changing focus of society,

towards strength,

women can be just as strong as men

and need not be ruled by their emotions.

According to her, women are embracing

a sense of strength typically seen as ‘masculine’.

They are reclaiming strength for themselves.

She was a strong person, she said.

Someone closing the gap.

She celebrated. I grieved.

In light of this new shift

I am the weakest person I know.

I was not the only one,

a voice behind me, female,

‘That’s not strength.’

I saw a ray of hope.
I am a woman.
I cry.
A lot. 
And maybe it's not weakness.
If I embrace this 'masculine strength'
I feel as though my heart would become dry
nothing would be able to grow
nothing good or bad

a wasteland.
I feel things too sharply. 
My emotions bowl me over,
overwhelm me,
refuse to be controlled,
contained.
But I'd rather feel too strongly
than feel nothing at all. 

I am a woman.
With years streaming down my face
I may seem weak.
But I am stronger than I look.
I am filled with oceans,
yet I am able to keep that from destroying me.
My emotions may rule me, tide like,
but they also drive me to care,

to see what's happening to other people,
to better myself,
to reach out,
to give myself to changing what I can

for those who need it.

I am a woman.
I cry. 
A lot. 
But with each tear I hope to carve
a new path for the world.