She bled red for me.
On the days that she was kicked
down in the dirt like a dog
sloshing buckets for the hogs
She bled red for me.
In the nights She
couldn’t sleep
fearful of the company
She had to keep
She bled red for me.
Through the years
of suffrage
with empty voices
denied her choices
and tossed into the county jail,
She bled red for me.
With two feet of fortitude
standing
facing
patriarchal attitude
She bled red for me.
She bled red for you.
Stained sheets,
taxes paid,
faces bruised,
names changed,
miles traveled,
bellies ravaged,
confidence shattered
Wives, Lovers,
Brothers, Sisters,
Friends, Mothers,
Battered.
She bled red for me.
Today, I wear red for Her.

You must feel large
and in charge
toppling tombstones
in the dead of night.
You must feel
just, powerful, and right
while granite thuds
in the winter's mud
and your silent voice
echoes BIG in
a chamber of bones.
Rattling the deceased
must please your
uneasy soul.
The dead were never like you.
so you insult their vaults,
graves, and resting place,
post haste.
Then, run away
like a catacomb coward.
May their spirits
haunt you,
taunt you,
within your yellow home.