1
There was a girl growing tall and curved and graceful
Who dreamed of achieving great goals
As she walked down through the cobblestone streets.
All of the other girls walked with her
Dreaming dreams of their own.
They walked when the sun shone and when the stars glittered;
All crowded or empty; clean or dirty.
They all walked with their heads held high and feet never hesitating
For they were not scared of their cobblestone streets.

When they neared womanhood the walking ceased
And one by one the girls abandoned their cobblestone streets,
And when asked why, they simply said, “Fear”.
The last girl walking didn’t understand until, finally,
She too was pulled aside and warned,
“Now as you grow close to reaching your ripe age
of beauty and temptation
Don’t go walking on those cobblestone streets
Those are man’s land and if you dare enter,
Things too evil to speak of will happen upon you”.
The last girl, though scared like the rest, fumed with anger.
Those cobblestone streets were the gateway
To her hopes and dreams
And now they were pulled from her grasp.

Why should the men be the only one’s walking
While we, the women, are supposed to do… what?
Stay inside and cook and clean for them?
Bear children for them?
All while they take over the cobblestone streets
And plague our nightmares
that live in alleyways and the dark of the night?
All while the women give up dreams they held on to
And men don’t spare a second thought over their loss?
No.
And so, the girl defied the path chosen for her
And kept walking on the cobblestone streets.

2
The men stared at her, gawking and laughing,
“A near woman on the cobblestone streets,
She surely will be used or beaten”
“Or maybe she thinks herself a man
From how she holds her head so high”
“Give it time some man of the night
Will teach her different”.
They spewed venom and threw obscene gestures at her
But she paid no heed and kept walking
Down her cobblestone streets.

She wondered what would happen,
If one day she should break
And shout back
But to speak would allow the sobs and tears to start
And she feared to show the men weakness
For their words and threats could become actions.

Though she continued to fear the men as she aged
And became a woman
She did not let them see her tears,
Instead they saw her achieve goals
Which she had dreamed of when she was a girl.
Some men congratulated her
Even began to speak to her with kind words
Joining her on her walk
But never staying.
She was, in fact, a woman still.

3
She had been walking on the cobblestone streets
for thirty long years
Before she stopped, halted in surprise
For there was a girl, almost a woman,
Walking on her own.
After a moment, they engulfed one another in a hug
And clasped their palms together,
Walking hand in hand.

The girl spoke of the other girl’s fear,
Encouraged by women and provoked by men.
She spoke of her willingness to resist,
Like the woman had before her,
And desperation to reach her goals.

The woman couldn’t be prouder.
Her dreams soon were filled with the images of women
All walking with men equally
Down the cobblestone streets.
The men, the woman and girl found
Upon voicing said dreams,
Did not share the same ideals.

“I tolerated one, I shan’t tolerate more,
Trying to take the cobblestone streets
Those that are rightfully ours”
they raged down their cobblestone streets
Over the woman and the girl
For two against thousands stands little chance.
They were used and beaten,
“It would’ve happened eventually”
Sliding out of the lips of men
As their bodies are left to rot
While the men trudge back
To the old cobblestone streets.


4
As the sun rose the day after
The men found their dear cobblestone streets…
Too crowded.
Bewildered, they searched through themselves
And found an abundant of faces
Not man nor child
But instead, women.

Walking through the crowds of men
Were women donning the color red,
Red for their fallen kin.
And their kin’s names being chanted
like a prayer of hope
Starting softly at first
Then gaining volume
Louder
Louder
louder
Till they were screaming them
Into the men’s faces
And they fell backwards from the force
And landed hard on the cobblestone streets.

The men hurried back up and tried to restrain them
But the thing about thousands against thousands
Is that chance no longer is applicable
And is replaced by the shear power
Of Hope’s push and the intensity of Desire;
Desire to walk among equals
On the old cobblestone streets.