We Roar

Born again from the ashes of our memories,
telling of many moons that left sleeplessness,
hopelessness,
and gentle burdens.
The road can pull long nights and bring in twisted emotions.
This is not a job for the weak and a long trail for the heavy handed.
Countless times we’ve faced blood, breaks, and ripped moments.
It is our job to rise up–
to fix.
We fix.
That is the place of a mother.
It is always deeper than a bandage.
We are not temporary,
but a bold and permanent healer.
We roar.
We stand in the face of agony,
bringing down any form of comfort we can call to the surface.
Our wombs are battlefields left scared and bruised,
in the name of love.
Again and again we chose to walk the path,
forgetting quickly the pains of the past.
And forever,
in the name of love.
Motherhood is often a cruel mistress in the face of an angel,
but in the end every moment takes shape in our hearts.
We roar.
For our children, we will always roar.