For years she chased a silent prize,
Each step dismissed before her eyes.
Successes bright yet dull to him,
Because her voice comes from within.
Because she’s not the son he knew,
The one he’d trust to see things through.
To many, the world is shaped in stone,
A man’s best work stands proud, alone.
And yet she’s risen, stood her ground,
Built truths from scars and strength she found.
She faced the doubt, the quiet sighs,
The measured words that underlie –
That whisper sharp, yet sound benign,
“You’ll never match a man’s design.”
Yet still she writes, she dares, she strives,
Refusing doubts that starve the drive.
For women rise where doubt once spread,
With silent steel and words unsaid.
We carve our place, we stake our claim,
Despite the ghosts who guard the flame.
So let them scoff, I’ll light my way,
With work that stands, with words that stay.
For history bends and hearts must learn
The fires we forge are ours to burn.
