The Hand That Rocks The Cradle

The hand that rocks the cradle, can do much more than that.

She crossed the threshold of pain,

That's likened to the sting of a hundred deadly scorpions,

Only to be enveloped in your effervescent smiles.

That may be a memory in your distant past,

but she lives and breathes those those very moments,

Dreaming your dream for you,

A dream where you shatter those very glass ceilings,

that once reined her in, that muffled her voice, nay, stifled her very being.

Unshackled, see her traverse heights,

See her unfazed, humbling mights.

Standing with you, as you revolt,

Cheering you in your deadly sport,

Braving odds, that you might grow,

facing perils high and low.

She adorns every walk of your life,

be they etched in pride or strife.

Will you who espouse your every cause,

professing  your love, knowing no pause,

speak of her unquestioned right to live, 

to share your space, to take or give?

to know that it's your own world that you defile,

when you choose to stifle her smile.

Raise your voices, speak up for her,

Fear not, even if in right with two or three,

She is your talisman, the steadfast root of a giant tree.