How much longer must I spend my time

Pretending the man sat next to me is interesting.

How much longer must I spend my time

Looking after someone else, anyone else

children, parents, him.

As the body sags and settles into itself

and the fire inside burns hotter

day by day, year by year, decades pass.

Begrudging every minute,

As I see the same path mapped out for my daughters.

Sing out my soul, let the humble rise up

Now,

Not later, not constantly waiting for changes that never come,

How much longer must we wait for nothing more than our due

Growing old, waiting

For the never-ever promises

Give me my time, my space to be me

not someone’s mother or lover,

Now.

Do not make me wait for something you know will never come

Old women are too often angry women,

fuelled by broken promises and dreams

And the not-apologies of men.