An Illusion Poem by John Sensele

International Women's day weaves along
Once every three hundred and sixty five days
Raising hopes, causing a stir headlong
Women scrambling to march past while pays
Grumble at least forty percent lower
Than packages male counterparts earn
Whether they breathe the rarefied air in a slower
Occupation or simply control the urn
Where cash flows from women's sweat
Poured at great cost beneath the glass ceiling
They can't cross as long as policies set
Women's worth against the unwilling
Machinery that scoffs at the fuss
Celebrations cause without shifting the goalpost
A single inch in a cab or in a bus
Where hardly anyone cares about the cost
Economies incur year in, year out
So long as women remain downtrodden
With no advocate to pout or shout
At chasms at places of work broaden
At places of work where impunity's gout
Reigns supreme and demagogs deceive
Society into believing a day set aside
On a calendar grants women a reprieve
From injustices women's pride
Bears stoically
Until the next celebrations
Where the ruse laconically
Repeats the lie in rations
Women can hardly bear
Despite the pomp
And fanfare blowing through the air
Although revellers romp and stomp.