A 19th Century Lady

A poem inspired by 'A Doll's House', a play by Henrik Ibsen

It’s funny isn’t it

how people can ignore a lie

even if it’s right in front of them.

Funny how they don’t see past

The fashionable dress,

The perfectly arranged hair,

The painted face.

They see only a dainty china doll

sitting in her husband’s parlor

posing on his arm

They only see the dressed up children;

the tastefully arranged house.

They don’t see the truth:

the age difference

the strain in the smile

the tiredness clinging to our eyes.

We are trapped,

Us dainty china dolls.

Trapped in whalebone corsets,

Trapped in weighty silk,

Trapped in society’s unyielding expectations:

smile,

curtsy,

small talk over tea.

No more.

No less.

We are not people,

we are trophies.

We embroider till our fingers bleed;

dance until our husband’s blood sings.

We laugh 

and talk, 

and prance around,

pulled by invisible strings

But when the day is over,

it’s either to the bed or shelf we go

‘Little bird sing for me once more’

‘Darling dear, how fine you look tonight’

‘My friends were pleased with you’

It never ends.

You cannot please a beast

whose hunger is endless;

you cannot swim in a world

that makes you drown.

We haven’t a chance with the way things are

and change is as fickle as the fates;

so there is never an escape.