My heart filled with boundless joys and qualms,
When I first cradled you in my arms,
The cherubic face, fingers and tiny toes,
I had yearned for long to see those.
All those prayers invoking the heavenly abode,
Finally heard and on me, a blessing they bestowed.
To nurture, care and to love you as a mother
and embark upon a journey together.
But when you stand on the shores to face the world beyond,
with arduous obstacles and wavering mind to respond,
Remember my son, be strong, for you were born from a woman
resilient at the core, undeterred move on, for you have in you
a part of me to summon.
It’s a challenge to be a mum
To teach to talk to be free
To cook to clean to be me
To love to hate can’t compete
To face to brave and to repeat
To cry to laugh find a seat
To lay to sleep it’s a feat
It is a challenge to be mum
Phew! I need a glass of rum.
with no rules to shackle her mind
meandering thru life
heart and soul entwined
fire in her eyes push her to strive
to show the world her strength and fervour
for she is a woman, she is esprit libre.
a dash of confidence, a colour of pride
the beaten track beckons her to ride
but the heart sings a different tune
of the maids of yore who trod on thorn strewn
Path, across the ocean and the mountains far
For she is dauntless, she is esprit libre
Then there she is
ready to take a step with her beliefs,
wiped her tears with a fearful heart
like a phoenix she rose from her mottled scars.
She spirited away loneliness for she will grieve no more,
She twirled over her challenges for she will hide nor fold.
Her ebullient spirit ignited her passion,
heaved her sighs to a mad laugh,
peering over the horizon she tightened her locks.
There, she is ready for you
Oh world! Standing amidst
STRONGER than ever
Her unfettered spirit liberated
when she became one with her mind, body and soul,
for she is proud to be born a woman.
As a lone traveller I stood on the beach
With the waves curling my feet
Sands giving away underneath
burying them deep.
The evening rays cast its warm light,
glistening my hidden tears from sight
the inebriated wind swept away my locks,
revealing the scars of an epoch.
Whose fault was it?
The wind whispered, “your’s”
“for being born a woman”.