Father Energy

(our reckoning with patriarchy)

They held us down,
chained us to the earth
with boots that crushed our backs,
hands that gagged,
voices that told us
you don’t deserve to speak.

We were bred for service.
Guilty by design.
Measured by obedience.
Hollowed by expectation.
Fed scraps and told to say thank you.

Above us, they hovered,
monolithic and shaking with fear,
terrified of our seeing.
We shrank so they could feel tall,
bent so they wouldn’t break.

They called it humility,
but it was humiliation
a theater of silence
where we begged for crumbs of recognition.
We became scapegoats
for their unhealed wounds,
punching bags for their shame.
We bore their hurt like it was ours.

And from our lips,
they pulled a hallelujah
not worship,
but survival.
Grateful for breadcrumbs.
Grateful to be spared.
Grateful to be tolerated.

Be pretty.
Be still.

Father energy
it sculpted our image of God.
Made him a man.
Made him a monster.
Made him a mirror
of all that punished us for feeling,
for knowing,
for seeing too much.

We tried to run.
But they caught us.
Dragged us before their altars,
sat us before their panels of judgment,
and told us
you can run,
but you cannot hide
from what we need you to be.

They hated the truth-teller in us,
the ones who pierced the mask
of their instant gratification,
who saw the boy behind the brute.

There was a code
a brotherhood
that built itself on secrecy
and scapegoats.
A system that forgot
who bled to bring it to life.

They crowned themselves gods
and forgot their mothers.
Forgot the wombs.
Forgot the cost.

Father energy
was never fatherhood.
It was fear in a crown.
It was power without presence.
And we, the empowered women of the world
we are the reckoning.

Inspired by Leonard Cohen’s rawest line.
This isn’t just a poem—it’s a reckoning.
Let it speak for itself.

Sound familiar?
The voices weren’t always loud.
Sometimes they whispered, “Be small. Be grateful.”

This is for every woman who stopped trusting her fire.

What if God didn’t look like the man who silenced you?

What if She was inside you the whole time?

This is not rage. This is remembrance.
This is not hate. This is healing.

We are the reckoning.

Drop 🔥 in the comments if this hit something.