There is a weakness in the voice of the
man who bends only to gawk.
The man who believes that valour
always settles in an attractive sort
of subtle distinction on his suit of
shining armour.
There is a weakness in the man who
wants so badly to drape a flower on his arm, and
call her his. To love and protect, to hold
and to mould, and to cling to and to suffocate and
to push and to lean on. To show to
his other rusted knights.
There is a weakness in the man
who’s self-awareness is limited to ‘her’.
His ornament; he wears her and
she is on her best behaviour.
Dutiful. And just as weak.
-
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Mocking Bird Down 
Reblogged this on georgeforfun and commented:
awesome
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Stupendously awesome. Chauvinism will alas hang around like dog dirt on the underside of a radiator, you may not know exactly what it is but every day the heat comes on, it will make sure you know it is still there!
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Yes it’s true that lying beneath such apparent chivalry is weakness! But where does the woman’s ownership in this relationship lie? If she has no ownership, she is forever a victim of her own limitation.
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You missed the sentiment of the poem – and clearly missed the last line. I am saying that women who stay in these relationships that sway from side to side, are just as weak as the men that keep those women. Men that look for their own value in another’s beauty in beauty, and visa versa – and then both parties stay – because that becomes their identity.
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Reblogged this on Beasts of Articulation.
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