Hey you,
Yes, you there-
With your fingers stained with ink
And eyes that see beyond what many can even wink.
I carry, post haste, a letter for you, mistress.
You see, it’s from a lady- Woolf, she said her name was-
Or was it Plath?
No, I think she called herself Emily.
I am sorry, you can see for yourself-
It’s signed, the greatest woman writer of your generation,
And it’s titled, to that girl who wrote the loveliest stories,
So I got it, post-haste, for you.
All the way from America…no Europe…no was it India?
Well, I can’t recall, but it’s here for you,
And this is what it says,
“Dear girl,
You will be a woman one day. Like I became one too.
The world will weigh you down,
And perhaps you might have to set aside your pen,
Clean your fingers and pick up a more suitable trade,
But I urge you, once a girl to another,
Hear this plea, of mine-
You have in your soul what I saw shine in mine,
Words on paper can turn the world upside down,
You have in your soul what I saw shine in mine,
Stories beyond Ken, verses beyond time,
Set aside the pen if you must,
But seal not those eyes, close not those lips
That have fountains of stories to share,
And my legacy must live on
In the stories of women untold, told by girls and ladies and women and more.
I beg you, let not my legacy die,
Keep it alive however you can,
For you have in your soul what I saw shine in mine.
Hear this plea of mine
From one girl to another,
Or perhaps,
From the greatest woman writer of your generation,
To the upcoming woman write of the next,
Please keep on writing. Go, write.
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