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Poem

Women, who stand stronger than a castle,
resolute, with a chin higher than a tower.
Beautiful in their imperfect endless battle,
their flaws less than there are vowels.

I, a man, raised by a motherly embrace.
Stood kissed by the divine, among her grace.
No matter how lost I’ve become in my ways,
I am still the lost boy, that cried when she’s away.

To a woman, who stood proud amongst the many,
who carried mountains and looked to carry.
To the laugh, that will echo while they envy,
to the woman, that never let me fall heavy.

Who calmed my mind and forced it steady,
who held my hand, when I was not ready,
to grow into this world and to be a man,
a woman built me and then she carried.

Long live all the women, mother’s to our mother’s.
Whom walked this land so we don’t suffer.
Soar high, weightless and free,
forever the reason, I have come here to be.

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