For Gloria Steinem

Gloria, I don't have to tell you that I'm tired.
I enjoy unconsciousness the prescribed eight hours a night,

but it's never enough to grant me serenity.
Golfing, I can't swing without strange men lecturing me

on how to stand, where my eyes should be.
I know.

That's sand against a storm, though. Dig deeper.
Women’s heart attacks go unnoticed,

because doctors deem only men worthy of research.
A friend's uterine stabbings judged psychosomatic for decades.

"On demand, without apology," still means begging, searching, shame.
Invasions of bodies and schools and nations.

How have you fought for so long, Gloria? You, who feel the strain 
to be thin as much as I? You from the same Rust Belt town?

You who grew up in a time even more restrictive than mine?
I need the moonstone and vetiver to cast their spells of strength,

meditation, now that wine has drowned me, pulls so many women
beneath the waves of its false comfort.

How do you fight without falling to weapons of patriarchy:
terror, guns, warheads? Fight we must, though,

to retake the rights we have lost and to gain real equality
for those who have never felt their heart fly free.

Rachel Van Sickle is a writer based out of Lexington, Kentucky where she pays the bills with her marketing job. She received an MFA in creative writing from Louisiana State University, and her work has appeared in Devilfish Review, Fahmidan Journal, Morning Fruit Magazine, Spoonie Press, and more. You can follow her writing struggles and successes on Twitter at @RachelVanSickle