A Mother, A Woman

A mother holds
tiny hands,
packs warmth –
into tiffin boxes,
waits by the window
long after the street goes quiet!

A woman stands –
at boardrooms,
on buses,
in protests,
in poems;
carrying the storm –
with a calm face.

A mother whispers,
“Be careful!”
A woman whispers,
“Be free!!”
And sometimes
They have –
the same voice!!

She is not born brave,
She becomes it;
with each no,
each night,
each knot –
she unties in silence.

A mother loves –
with a thousand fears!
A woman walks –
with a thousand eyes!
Yet both dream
of a world,
where daughters –
don’t have to learn caution
before courage.

She is both –
a nurturer,
a fighter,
a fire wrapped in gentleness.
Not every woman
becomes a mother,
but every woman
is made to mother her safety.

A mother,
a woman –
two names,
one story
still being rewritten.