Expressing in poem or prose form, poets in this feature have woven beautiful compositions of the unsung heroines, their strengths, resilience and impact as well as the pioneering women who break the barriers every day.
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“THE SILENT HEROINES”
They weave the dawn with their patient hands
Sculptors of souls, valiant guardians
In the discreet shadow where their fire shines
They build happy worlds
Carrying history on their shoulders.
From songs of pain to school anthems
Their voices rise in the silence
Wall of tenderness, beacon of hope
They teach love, righteousness
Forging hearts with a sure hand,
Repairing, forgiving
Under their sight, life resonates.
They are mothers, sisters, friends,
Faithful stars in the sky of our lives
Without medals, without golden crows
But sovereigns of eternity
© MED KERKOUB
Algeria
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“MY MOTHER”
She is not just an ethereal creature,
And news of her birth is no longer poignant.
She is no less a moral figure,
Exerting her strength without being arrogant.
My mother is the family’s neck,
On which rests my father as the head,
Saving the family’s ship from being wrecked,
Availing herself in the kitchen for bread.
African woman has the strength of steel,
And her asexuality does not negate man’s rationality,
Her erotism doesn’t amount to virtues unreal,
She is virtuous and full of chastity.
My mother is that African woman,
Tending to kids, attending to chores.
She is that golden crown adorning a nobleman,
The vessel of respite, procreation and more.
© NWANKWO VICTOR AVIC
Nigeria
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The pioneer women have it all. Superiority, strength, resilience, a spirit of courage and passion. She was a legacy for mankind, battled storms and hardship’s sting, through days of toil. She was the beacon of hope, stood in faith with a heart that soared in the spirit, through trials faced and battles won with gusto amidst a testament of time and grace.
GOOD WOMAN
Weight of the world
on her shoulders
and she’s carrying
all those pawns
like her own cosmic
intervention.
Cursed
To be born as a woman
In this God forsaken land.
She will pick the rays of the sun
to wash away sins
as an atonement for the
wrongdoings of men.
Why?
Simply,
Because she’s a Woman.
Poets Note: I dedicate this poem to all women who are pioneers in their own wisdom and wit
© SHEILA PACKIRNATHAN
Malaysia
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“MOTHER AS SEEN THROUGH THE EYES OF THE CHILD”
Mother, the heart that beats for two,
Protecting her child from the dragon
Strengthening his soul with her eternal love,
In every moment she offers him support.
She advises her child to learn a lesson
From every test professors life gives him
Patiently done what he puts his mind to,
And she rejoices with him, over every achievement.
For her, tradition isn’t a souvenir booklet.
It’s a way to keep connected to the roots
Although it’s hard to paint a beautiful portrait of her
She’s every poet’s source of inspiration.
© GHEORGHE LAURA
Romania
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“MY HEROINE”
Her name is Chris, a Romanian theater director. She is my heroine and my inspiration. A few years ago, she was diagnosed with cancer. She managed to fight with the disease and to survive, being a model for other patients with cancer. She never quits, and always kept her positivity until today. She continues to work, directing her theater plays. She even created a short movie about patients with cancer and with her role of motivating other patients to never let themselves down. This short movie was dispersed to all hospitals as therapy.
Chris wrote a book about her experience with cancer, containing an album with photos where her body was clearly affected by the disease. In all her photos, her smile continued to exist. After she managed to battle the disease, she came up with a project of building an independent theater in Bucharest, starting from scratch. She developed a crusade in which she convinced people to donate money for both the campaign and construction materials. The theater is now in the process of being built, after the fundraising. I admire her for doing such great projects, to never lose faith in her success and for her strength.
A human being is much stronger than she thinks she is. The challenges reveal this all the time.
© BOGDANA GAGEANU
Romania
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“THE HOUSEWIFE”
I am not drafting policies
my vocabulary is like seeping
but I am the solo conductor
in the unpaid housekeeping.
I am not rising sales
that is none of my business
but I recharge your motivation
when you create a mess.
You lift and shift heavy loads
as I have little muscle tone
but I give birth like a career woman
bearing pain of a broken bone.
© RAFIYA SAYEED
India
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“MY HEROINE”
As she watches over her children,
The mother, my mother, prayed, never hidden,
For God to help protect her progeny
From abuse, annihilation of faith, depravity,
That lead to their lack of success
And succor that multiplies as you confess
That your leaders: God and mother
Are twin lights of hope for a better
Future as, she, my role model,
Seems able to juggle a colossal
Number of things together,
While you watch exhaustion in layers
Of emotion that leads to prayer
For strength to be like her, better,
Stronger, more disciplined
In applying your faith in a life dispersed
Into a material world,
Where instant gratification is gold,
While patience is sold
For being a coward.
But never fear, her support
Lifts you up to the crest
Of belief that with patience
Comes great success in abundance
As your reward for believing,
Applying the innate strength giving
You, the mighty, overcoming obstacles
That feel like mole hills, becoming pinnacles
Of triumph for your abilities
To be steadfast while facing adversities
That would bog down any other,
Not you, no, you apply what was taught to soar.
© MALAK KALMON CHEHAB
Canada
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“THE FIRE THEY CARRY”
I have watched them walk through fire,
Heads held high, no time to bend.
They lift the weight the world won’t carry,
They fight, they mend, they rise again.
No trumpets call, no banners wave,
Yet still, they march, their voices sure.
Hands like rivers carve new pathways,
Strength unshaken, spirit pure.
They build with love, with pain, with power,
Teaching hope where none should grow.
They hold the night, they shape the morning,
They teach the weary how to glow.
I name them here, though names aren’t needed,
Their echoes drum in every heart.
The world may miss the songs they’ve given,
But I have heard them from the start.
They do not bow, they do not falter,
The earth is steady where they stand.
I rise because they walked before me,
Their fire burning in my hands.
© CONCETTA PIPIA
U.S.
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