SO WOMEN WEPT…
© Brenda Joy
Winner, The Nandewar Poetry Competition 2023, Narrabri and District Historical Society, Narrabri, NSW.
She – from London Town
In the heart of a harsh and weathered land, under blaze of the outback sun,
she reflects on the sadness her life has come to know,
in a searching attempt to understand what the deeds of the dark have done
to the girl who came down on the ship so long ago.
Only eighteen years old, her voyage led to the south where the promise lay.
With a heart full of trust and excitement she’d arrived
into Botany Bay with hopes to wed, in that outpost so far away
from the system which kept those of ‘lesser’ birth deprived.
But in Sydney’s domain she came to see, though she bore neither crime nor stain,
that this counted for nought where barbaric moral mores
of a rugged and rough society could condone the inflict of pain
on all ‘lower-class’ women just seen as sluts and whores.
In that coarse, anti-female atmosphere, in her struggle to just survive,
to get food and protection and shelter, her demise
saw her forced to give sex through need and fear if she wanted to stay alive,
for a girl was a chattel for men to utilise.
Finding Joe meant escape from fearful nights at the whim of some vicious brute
(if a man took you on you were saved from all the rest).
Even though a de facto had no rights and was labelled a prostitute,
not for love, but for safety, to stay with Joe was best.
So when Joe left the town to head out back (for he wanted the chance to live
without stigma attached to his convict background), then
she had willingly joined him on his track, but he’d found that he could not give
her a home, for the squatters would only house the men.
Having lost her escape she’d turned once more to the selling of sex for pay
and the pimp of the district was quick to take her on.
Just a bed in a tent, an outback whore, in a struggle to live each day ─
with no future ahead and the hopes of girlhood gone.
She’d become what they’d said she was at last and the passing of years could bring
only sorrow and sadness as youth and beauty died.
And she looked at the lady going past and she felt she had everything
with her husband, her home and her children by her side.
She – from Sydney Cove
In the heart of a harsh and weathered land, under blaze of the outback sun,
she reflects on the sadness her life has come to know,
in a searching attempt to understand what the deeds of the dark have done,
to the girl who came out on the coach so long ago.
Only eighteen years old, her journey led to the west where the promise lay.
With a heart full of trust and excitement as a bride,
at her father’s command, she’d come to wed in this wasteland so far away
from the genteel existence his rank and wealth supplied.
But in marital state it came to be that this man, nearly twice her age,
who appeared on the outer to be devout and kind,
was a product of base society and his conduct and fits of rage
saw the starry-eyed hopes of a girl left far behind.
In that coarse, anti-female atmosphere, where a man had complete control
over property, finance and spouse, her cruel demise
saw her forced to succumb, through need and fear, to the bonds of her marriage role
as a chattel her husband could rule and utilise.
Though his temper and wrath meant fear-filled nights and abuse in the marriage bed,
with a husband, she had some respect from all the rest,
even though she’d surrendered her total rights and the hopes of her youth were dead,
not for love, but for safety, to stay with him was best.
Then the children were born and she was cast in a part that could help allay
all the sorrow she felt for the life she’d left behind.
While her pleasures belonged in a distant past, her emotions were kept at bay
as she stifled regrets that would infiltrate her mind.
And she looked at the woman leading life, as an outcast from social grace,
without judgement. She knew, “But for fortune there go I.
She is paid as a whore, I’m paid as wife for the deeds that the dawn can’t face
for when men have the power then women must comply.”
So the lady who passed could understand what the ‘harlot’ she saw had done,
and she felt the compassion that only women know.
In the heart of a harsh and weathered land, under blaze of the outback sun,
lie the dreams of the women who wept so long ago.
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