It is late. The sun has gone down. Women around the world have celebrated Mother’s day. Some have celebrated with children, others with patients, and patience, pets or other wild things. Some have wined and dined, others have spent time alone, in prayer, or suffering, or the lucky ones, with joy as their companion. Or sadly, perhaps alongside a bittersweet memory or memories of children lost. And yet still others, feeling undone, whispered nothing…yet hope to be recognized – for their worth – as a ‘womb – an.’
It is late. The sun has gone down. Poems have been written and read. Flowers given, presents unwrapped, dinners and stories spun again, against a backdrop of birth pangs and labour. The sacrifices made, the songs sang, and those left unsung. Like heroes; and the many heroes forgotten. And yet lived. Every womb delivers the world. Every woman stands as One.
Thank you to all of the beautiful women, who have walked with me, alongside me, carried me, helped me, consoled me, led me forward, gave me reason to pause, and embraced each precious moment that needed embracing. Thank you all for your eternal wisdom that springs forth, full of inspiration. And thank you for not giving up, standing in solidarity, and being as present as we possibly can to a world that so desperately needs the nurture of women, all women. Thank you, merci, meegwetch.