Women Hold Half the Sky

Not muscles forged in fire's wrath, But gentle hands that cradle life's path. Not thunder's roar that shakes the earth, But whispers soft, of wisdom's worth. Weavers of dreams, on futures bright, Hope's threads we weave in morning's light. Architects of hearts that mend and mend, A silent strength that knows no end. The sky, a canvas vast, Reflects the power we hold inside. Not mirrored in the sun's harsh gleam, But in the moon's ethereal beam. Tillers of fertile, waiting ground, Where seeds of progress can be found. Bridges we build across the gap, Where understanding finds its map. The boundless blue, a boundless dream, Echoes the goals for which we scheme. Not storms that rage with fury's might, But gentle breezes, guiding light. Teachers, healers, guiding stars, With knowledge burning, banishing scars. Artists weaving beauty's guise, Warriors are fighting for justice to rise. The sky, a tapestry grand and bold, Woven by women, stories told. Not fleeting stars, but constellations bright, Our legacy is etched in celestial light. We hold half the sky, a truth unbound, A rising force on sacred ground. With hearts ablaze and spirits free, We paint the world for all to see. "We hold half the sky, not by mirroring the sun's might, but by the moon's gentle glow, weaving dreams, tilling hope, and guiding the world with unwavering strength.” Happy International Women’s Day! March 8, 2024