Emmeline Turns In Her Grave

Now my anxious pulse is racing,
My hungry eyes are wide and round,
My fretful hands snatch up my phone-
It's been a minute without a sound.

I leave it on the windowsill,
I take it up and down the stairs;
Still no word and still no message-
I think I binned it unawares.

I turn it off and take a break-
My hands have gained a nervous twitch-
But I doubt it will be long
Before I reach for the 'on' switch.

My dormant feminist feelings shriek
Why are you at his beck and call?
I silence them in case they muffle
The sound of His call after all.

Us girls shattered the glass ceiling
But there are barriers still to break
The wall between myself and life
That wall that I can only call 'heartache'.