Can new hope flourish from an act of violation?

Can one be freed from unwanted responsibility?

When living in this backwards, unlivable nation,

Where a spark of life outweighs a lost possibility

How does one prepare for something unplanned,

While their dreams are slipping from their hands,

Making way for a new beginning,

While their own youth is fading.

A delicate touch that graces your face,

Or an iron fist that holds you down?

A gentle voice in the safest place,

Or a fierce shriek that shakes the ground? 

To set you free to the point of neglecting,

Or pamper you to the point of smothering?

Is it the mere act of conceiving,

Or the arduous journey of birthing?

Is it the link of bloodlines,

Or is it the tie that binds?

Is there a way to do this perfectly,

One where you’re raised lovingly?

Why must such a heavy burden

Fall on the shaky hands of women?

Most may see it as a blessing heaven-sent,

An unlucky few suffer this without consent.

There’s no guaranteed return of investment

For the nine long months that you will spend,

Of your body twisting and growing unwarranted,

Thrust into a role that you have never wanted.

The sacrifice that this requires

And the love that it inspires—

In the eyes of your child, smiling—

Is it the reason to keep on going?

There are no manuals for this duty,

And every child’s need is different.

So why expect them to know who to be,

If no one cares to give enlightenment?

Why expect women to be able to do it all,

Day and night doing the thankless chores, forgotten ?

For every shortcoming they take the fall,

Balancing survival and the future of their begotten.

If it really takes a village to raise the next in line,

What about their role to each daughter and sister?

If answering the call is what makes a mother,

Is that also the moment they get left behind?