Women in White

There is something
about a woman in white.
I perchance could have missed it
years afar when I was young.
Unnoticed then untroubled still
I knew a woman’s strength of will.
She had power then
over innocents and men.
A power that froze
when we overstepped.
I hardly remember now
when doors would open
hats offed or doffed outdoors
when men walked
on the street side sidewalk
and dared not speak
a blemished word.
When a man protected
the fourth finger
of his left hand
as if it were gold
from the holy
promised land.
Women now
have forsaken the white
and as I grow older
become more like men.
We should not have taken her
so much for granted.
The young will never know
what a woman’s power meant.
She was our conscience
and the north star
in the dark unruly firmament.