Lady Chudleigh

Lady Chudleigh:

I read your words and contemplate
the meaning of what you illustrate:
the pictures of imprisonment,
the heavy yoke of his intent.
The empowering words give the thought
that in the end, I choose my lot.
Here I attempt to paraphrase
the message of this marriage craze;

As a woman, I have a choice,
commit to servitude, or have a voice.
I could exist, my husband’s wench
and have my life sidelined, on the bench.
A husband, tyrant with a wife,
a monster, and a woman’s strife.
Nuptials recited in God’s house
bind me to that awful louse.
(The contract sealed and our “I do’s”
will drive me to a lot of booze.)
Or, in myself, I can find worth,
be not a slave to where I berth.
I can protest, refuse his will
and live so free, and full of thrill,
absent of the burden’s weight,
independent of intrusive mate.

For your words, I do thank;
thoughts, on which, I can bank.