The Grey Flag of Glory

Sadia Arman

Now quite a few grey hairs mingled with the dark

Grow on my head still lush with Spring’ s bounteous past.

Late Summer comes at last;

And following her heel can be heard

Autumn’s heavy, rustling tread

Following dressily

In stout roan and mellow brown

With a sprinkle of white to own

That there shall be frost aplenty

In years to come.

 

How women have hid from the grey in dread

How scoured the market for the right shade

For the grey to cover and their years to hide

As if to hide the truth of and about their heads!

 

Greys are proof of years we have lived through and braved.

As trees grow large with age-rings,

That multiplying make stout

the once slender trunk

More robust, and stronger

With roots deep down

into the Earth

Fortified against calamity of all kinds.

 

Grey is proof to how far we have made it.

It bears the testimonial of our ripeness with credit.

Grey is a colour we have earned sisters,

In the harsh tests we could abide.

It is the true flag of pride

To celebrate that we didn’t give up the fight,

Drink toilet cleaner or jump from the roof,

That we are fighters and survivors, grey is proof.

Grey is the colour of our flag of glory

And to colour it dark is to say we are sorry

For our learning and our years:

That is only a statement of our subservience to men, my dears.

 

It states we are fit only for a certain consumption

Of the raw, provoking kind,

Namely to titillate men in their urges

Of a sexual orientation.

 

Women have done it through the ages

To gain favour from men,

Half- consciously perhaps,

For in the market there’s such pressure

That it forces us to tune up our behavior

To a great measure.

 

But sisters remember

That as nurturers and protectors we are gray,

That we can give happinesses

Of every sort and range

From the realm of <i>graydom</i>.

So learn with pride, sister, to say:

“I am going gray.”