The bearer of all of life.
World’s encompassed by womb.
Cycle aligned with the moon.
Her cloak heavy, of worries and woes. Yours as well as her own. She wears it for a life time. An accessory to the double x chromosome.
Strong as an ox. Infused with the spirit of those that came before her. She knows this war. And she doesn’t shy from the frequent shedding of blood.
She. Confined to a box.
Spirit contained to the rules of the game,
Using torture to tame and fear to remain the same.
But it’ll all be in vain.
Because there’s rights to reclaim.
She. Who hustles hard. Who knows the cards she’s been dealt. The face she’s to wear. She. Who knows exactly how to deal with the jokers of the deck.
She. Who blossoms and blooms like a sunflower, forever finding the light.
She. Whom withers and wilts, at times in silence, in the darkness of the night.
Life unfolds within her, spirit keeps her afloat. Love is her language. But go easy on her. She is human too.
International Women’s Day…? Mothers Day? What do these mean?
I think we’re hiding behind the façade that we’re celebrating and showing appreciation for half the human population.
Once a year! Hey its a start, right? 👀
The truth is equilibrium needs to be practised in every moment of everyday if we’re going to achieve the goal of peace and love for all… (that is, afterall, our collective birth right.)
So let’s celebrate, acknowledge and appreciate all the women, mums or not, everyday. 👊
Happy Mothers Day Mum Sandra (I love you everyday. 😘)