Woman of Arachne
You sew and weave,
And weave and sew.
Watching the thread,
As it bobs to and fro.
You are a woman of Arachne,
Not Helen of Troy.
Men will not fight wars over you,
No ships will they deploy.
You cut and snip,
And snip and cut.
Cursed to a life,
Where the door's always shut.
You weave your own web,
Telling your own story.
A tale of calm and patience,
Not of men and their glory.
You are a Penelope,
A wife who awaits the return.
But no one remembers to save you,
As the world around you - burns.
Emma Hartley