First Day of School

Be reckless, when you do good. Not caring whether your kindness always meets a true need.

Be greedy, when you create a bucket list, aim to do it all and let’s see how far you get.

Be aggressive, when you go after your dreams, don’t let anyone tell you that you’re too small.

Be possessive, of those you care about, stepping in first to share anything you have to give.

Be suspicious, of those who don’t cheer on your improvements, or celebrate your wins.

Be jealous, of those with superior knowledge, learn voraciously and chase to catch up.

Be angry, as you see those more vulnerable than you treated badly.

Be childish, as often and as loudly as possible, if you’re not having fun, you’re not doing it right.

Be forgetful, as others may hurt you unintentionally, and moving on swiftly is best for you both.

 

Most of all, my loves. Be happy, be happy, be happy. And give me a hug before you leave.

Solidarity

Womanly means different things, to everyone who’s using it,
There really isn’t a description that would be abusing it.
So if you find your womanhood, in football or karate,
Know that you’re as female, as the hostess of the party.
If you want to be a mother, and put kids in every room,
That’s great, but you’re no less, because you have less in your womb.

Feminine is not defined by the make up that you wear,
It isn’t formed from nail length, or the style of your hair
Female can’t be spotted by the hours that you work,
It doesn’t disappear because you run or shout or twerk.
No one takes the name away because you love your single life,
And no one’s less a woman when they choose to be a wife.

You can’t find ‘female’ in rosy cheeks, or soft or golden hair,
Theres no one way a ‘lady’ should sit down on a chair,
It doesn’t make you masculine to raise your voice and speak,
It doesn’t make you feminine when someone calls you meek,
There’s no such thing as ‘womanly curves’, the ‘real woman’ is a lie.
We’re all as real as each other, in the race to ‘female’? It’s a tie.

This International Woman’s Day, lets celebrate what makes us strong,
That united in our quest for more, we’ve all been female all along.

Having It All

Standing in my fortress and I’m holding up the walls
With kids and work and life, Hey, look at me! I’ve got it all.
I’ve created something masterful, come watch me if you will,
Running running running, all the time to just stay still.
One hand is in the kitchen making healthy food for four,
One hand holds back the crushing guilt from knocking down my door
The walls aren’t soundproof, not a bit, I’m wincing as I hear
“No concern you’ve sacrificed your kids for your career?”
That one’s a direct hit, and it gets me in the chest,
A neighbour smiles and waves as she sips tea and takes a rest.
She’s getting on just fine, there must be something wrong with me
If I can’t keep the house intact and raise this family.
The bricks are built of emotional load, they’re glued with mental labour,
The floor is paved with “Could you just…?” and “Can I ask you one small favour?”
I close my eyes for seconds, and the shrill bell sounds again,
A deadline looms, black and fierce, so I pick up my pen.
The voices haven’t stopped. They shout, “Have you made that call?”
No one else will make it, and what’s one more juggling ball?
“Catch it with your shoulder, oh wow you’re super-mum!
Managing this (unfair) load, you inspire everyone!”
Drowning out those voices, which pepper us with guilt,
Assessing all our choices, in these castles that we’ve built.
“If you’re not happy that’s just shameful, look at what you’ve got,
Imagine all the others who’d be grateful for your lot.”
A stone cold cup of coffee, goes in the microwave,
Sifting through the leftovers to see what I can save.
“How’s your hair looking? Your man will be home soon”
Wife guilt in place of mum guilt, we all love a change of tune!
Ding dong, oh that’s the doorbell. Come in- excuse the mess.
Sit down and let me tell you eighteen reasons why I’m stressed.
I’ll laugh them off once I’m done, with a humorous remark,
“You’re allowed to find things tough, just please don’t lose your spark.”
The voices won’t let up, both exhausting and infernal,
Nope, it doesn’t help to recognise they’re almost all internal.
I paste the smile firmly on, you’d never spot the trick
I take a couple Nurofen, no time’s allowed for ‘sick’.
The roof’s twined with relationships, it’s looking quite dejected,
Patched up with late apologies, both surprising and expected
One loose leaf falls next to me, I swiftly read the page
“Where have you been? We’ve missed you! Dude-its been an age!”
I look up at the patchwork papers, many yellowed with neglect,
I watch another fade from sight, well- what did I expect?
“You can’t do everything” they chide, “something’s got to give”
“Work harder” says the other side “craft the life you want to live.”
This week’s different I tell myself, because of X Y Z
Next month is much quieter,
I’m almost sure,
Maybe.

A Delicate Little Flower

You’re right.

She’s not a “delicate little flower”

And I don’t want her to be.
I don’t want her swaying in the breeze,
Moving this way and that on the flight of fancy of the wind.
I want her growing strong roots
Deep beneath the surface
Twisting their way into the earth,
Creating foundations, holding her own ground.
I don’t want her petals easily picked off one by one
By a boy playing “she loves me, loves me not”.
I want her to love herself, fiercely
Hold those petals fast in her grip
So that no-one can take hold
And make her less of herself
Unless giving freely is what she chooses.
I don’t wish for her to be simply beautiful,
(Which so often means beautifully simple)
I wan’t people to stop still in their tracks
Look at her unique colours, stop to take in her scent
Wonder what exotic place she comes from
That she was able to grow so wild and free.
I don’t imagine her little at all.
I want her to fill a room, until it overflows with her,
Not ladylike, but powerful
Not delicate, but extraordinary.
I can’t picture her on a manicured lawn
Under a cloche
Protected from the elements, not her.
I see her at all ages, in my mind’s eye.
Raging against the heat of the sun
Dancing in the rain
Moving with the wind
Laughing at the storm she creates around her
And I smile, and smile and smile.
Not a delicate little flower at all.
A powerful, strong-willed woman in the making.