woman

i couldn’t tell you
what being a woman is
everyday i try
knowing my efforts may
not be recognized
my worth may be deemed less
i think of my mother
four thousand plus kilometres away
and the power of her potential
that never came to fruition
I do it for her,
all the women before her
all the women after me

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Woman

i will always remember
the weathered hands
of my mother
a testament of her
strong will hidden
under her timid demeanor
a product of culture
traditions cuffed tight
to her wrists
as she raised six
forever indebted
my mother, my saviour
my woman
weathered hands i will never
let go