'Rebel' by Rositta Joseph

I do not claim the right or the luxury 

To write well-crafted poetry. 

I was not educated at the ‘right’ places 

Nor did I rub shoulders with the ‘right’ poets 

Blessed by the ‘right’ mentors  

And ‘right’ publishers. 

I have been ‘wrong’ all my life. 

And proud of it. 

I know of writing retreats  

And writing breaks  

In the mountains and  

On the seashores, 

Have neither the time nor the money 

For the ‘right’ kind of holidays, 

Have lived in a hurry 

From one futile struggle to another - 

Bread and butter, 

Worries and Cares, 

Criticism and Soul-crushing Work, 

Ingratitude and Betrayal, 

And after all this - 

A sense of utter worthlessness. 

This is where I come from. 

Have rushed through mountains and rivers 

Glanced hungrily at fabulous cities and villages 

Run through castles and palaces,  

Churches and temples - 

I know the limits of my time and my purse, 

So, I swallow all that I sense,  

Gorge greedily on every moment. 

May not digest everything, 

But, in between taking classes 

And cooking dinners 

Working online, offline, overtime 

And doing the dishes 

And being looked down upon 

For the sin of being born feminine, 

Some of what I have experienced 

And seen and loved and feared 

Will become part of my blood, 

And re-appear as the words in my ‘wrong’ poems 

Perhaps ignored by the ‘right’ scholars 

But certainly smelling of the untameable pride 

Of ‘wrong’ and ‘wronged’ women. 

From ‘A Poet’s Promise’ by Dr Rositta Joseph, Black Eagle Books, USA, 2025