The Three of Us

By Najeeba Sathar

We are three women, 

Best friends, 

Moms who meet after 

Our kids’ school drop-off, 

Walking aimlessly on the sidewalks, Discussing our carefree life. 

We always start with the good things— Our plans, good news, highlights of our day, Cute things our kids did, 

You will see us laughing, giggling, teasing. Eventually, like a clockwork, 

One of us bring up men. 

We talk casually about 

Our pet peeves, 

About a small fight 

But then we remember and 

We talk about 

The men with whom 

Sex feels like rape 

And if bought up, 

It is completely denied it. 

Of men who came for our finances And told us it was for our own future. Of men who defiled us, insulted us. Of men who came for our self-worth.

The men we married. 

We are three women 

Who decided to stay. 

No light awaits us at the tunnel’s end, 

So we have learned to walk in the dark. 

We are three women 

Who, in our own ways, 

Are learning to take back 

Our dignity, finances, and self-respect. 

We have learned to breathe underwater. 

We are three women. 

We are survivors. 

We have learned 

To be alone, to dream alone, 

To parent alone, 

And to be happy on our own 

In our successful little marriages. 

We are women with the nicest husbands— Husbands who don’t drink, cheat, or hit us. 

Husbands who wash dishes, mop the floors and babysit our kids We are difficult women 

Who say that it is not enough. 

How dare we! 

So we move on from them to our lives, Laughing carelessly again Cracking some lame jokes,

Making fun plans 

As if we didn’t just spill our guts About the nightmare that is our life 

But as long as we have each other, We will stay difficult, 

Raising men, 

as we raise our children.

By Najeeba Sathar