I have known and have been peculiar women

Women with peculiarly beautiful souls

And a beautiful soul is a real tangible thing

As real as the lakes are a resource of freshwater

My soul too is shockingly beautiful

And many men have tried to convince me otherwise

Have tried to convince me that their soul was more mysterious

Their suffering more poignant

Their ambition more noble

Their dreams more mythical

Their minds more devastating

Their rage more creative

I want women to know that just because the glittering kite is so high and

So unreachable, so far away that they can barely see it,

It does not belong to the sky

The string is still firmly in your hand

And to the men

Men who choose despair over hope

Who choose to ignore the simple longings of the heart

I want to say that it’s no use to stare at me like a criminal who stole your seat at the table of history

The name on the card is mine

I want them to know

That the anarchy of their lives is because they have not given respect to the ones that lead them