Is A Woman Sinner?

A Woman's Silent Cry

I wrote a poem of her soul,

The day our fates entwined.

She wore a mask of fleeting joy,

Yet shadows veiled her mind.

Her heart was drenched in silent tears,

A burdened soul she bore.

Yet she smiled, for she had to—

A little child she swore to adore.

But deep within, her spirit wept,

A whisper lost in the wind:

"Why was I born a woman?"

"Why is respect so thin?"

I pondered—was this world divine?

Or shaped by cruel command?

Why must she kneel beneath the weight

Of chains she never planned?

I know not of heaven's decree,

But this world—this world I see.

Where God made man and woman whole,

Yet shackles bind her free-born soul.

She longed for rest, a final peace,

Yet fate forbade her flight.

For in her darkest, deepest grief,

A child's face gleamed with light.

Is it a sin to be a woman?

If every heart must break and sigh—

"Why was I born a woman?"

What shall become of life thereby?