Stand

 I can sit with grief 

I have waited quietly while a weeping mother processed her son's death

I can sit with despair

I have held the hand of a man being told her would lose his leg

I can sit with anger

I have been the body against which rage for the world was waged

I can sit with humiliation 

I have been the ear women whispered into after secret nights against their will

But I cannot be the stick against which you measure your manhood

I will not sit for that, 

nor will I stand for it either.