When the greatest men and women stand before us,
All we see is greatness.
How can we not?
Before us stands one that the world can proudly say was created in her womb.
We smile and say, there walks a man of substance; there a woman of dignity,
But we tend to forget that behind these people are mean, lean success making machines,
Churning tirelessly overtime to produce greatness.
I speak of a woman, who has abandoned pain, destruction and insecurity to risk a life alone,
And now not only does she have to learn to brave the cold,
She has a baby on her back,
And she is scared because she has left the harsh light for a darkness that strikes harder.
But happiness is what she strives for,
And if it means braving the coldest days and nights she would,
So long as she could hear her baby’s giggle when it sees the smile on its mothers face
Oh how they taunt her,
Harlot. Selfish. Stupid.
For they ask,
What is a woman without a man, a baby without father?
They shake their primitive minds because all they see is disaster
But strong women build firm foundations from the rocks that others throw at them,
The absence of a man is a relief,
A breath of fresh air compared to the suffocated gasps she took as she carried the burden of a “second child”.
She is free,
Free to speak; free to be, free to act,
And where society sees dirt,
She sees a shoot emerging.
So she puts her mean lean success machine to work.
She is hell bent on proving the world wrong,
And anything that stands in her way may not be able to stand again.
She is the love and the pain,
Her own holy trinity;
Mother Father and Friend.
But her baby begins to grow and it is only natural he asks,
Where is the man who is to teach him to swim or ride a bike?
For the first time,
The superwoman mother has her fault,
And it hurts her,
But in all her super abilities she does not possess one to stop fate and nature
In the end her child takes his seat amongst the great
Pain was his soil and Shame his fertiliser
The shoot has emerged the strongest plant of all.
Where others see shame,
He found pride.
The womb they cursed,
Has blessed the world.
Main image taken from www.quotesgram.com
Poem written by Tafadzwa Naomi Mavindidze. A young girl of seventeen years with a passion and penchant for poetry. She is an avid reader and enjoys reading the works of famous poets like Warshan Shire and Maya Angelou. She enjoys writing poetry and short stories and attributes her motivation to inspirational people like her mother. This poem is a dedication to her amazing mother who is her greatest inspiration.