We may not be warriors but we wear a suit of armour
Made of sweet smiles and selective hearing
To guard against moments of hasty jeering
Peering eyes have chastised us by
Quietly saying all the things we are doing wrong as ‘Mom’
They try to shred us apart, one mishap at a time
But what once would scathe us, now we scoff
And slides off the shield we grew when becoming Mom
We may not be soldiers but we strategize like a son of a bitch
We can fix a wound with a Band-Aid and a light kiss
Fold laundry, make dinner, and plan a holiday all simultaneously
We make time for coffee and friendships
Wield households and chaperone field-trips
We oversee homework and chores
While acting as the mediator in the sibling wars
And we were not born, with this super human ability to multitask
No it just unmasked like an atomic bomb-
When we became Mom
We may not be fighters but our strength exceeds
Far past what you may see
We have housed human beings inside our bellies,
Ripped our vagina’s open to receive them
Or had a knife cut clean through our abdominal cavity
And yet still came out of it smiling.
Rivalling with each other over who had the most gruesome time delivering
And our hearts swell when we think of these little beings
That forced us to find the fight to free them instinctively.
Because we are Mom.
We may not be famous artists, but we teach our kids
It’s smartest, to color outside of the lines
We are the destroyers of boogeymen and things that go bump in the night
We fight all that’s wrong and edify all that’s right
This thing called love, we have it down to an art
And we know that this is the part- we were always meant to play
I say, we are the architects for this upcoming generation
A vocation filled with fascination, creation and stimulation.
An occupation worthy of jubilation!
We are the draftswomen for visions of the future
We are the producers of the good and virtuous
And we are courteous in our purposes
Never boasting of our worthiness
So you see for all the things we may not be, we are so much more.