It’s not a question of weight, of more or less fashionable beauty, or sex appeal, is much more a question of sanity and inner balance. Like dragonfly, it’s the strength of what looks like fragile, the eternal female, the relentless persistence of a sensitivity that will never yield to discouragement.
It’s the ethereal versatility, the vulnerability, the ability to understand, to apprehend the indefinite. It’s the empathy that provides the awareness of being eternal and endurable, the enormous resilience of Phoenix Bird, reborn from their own ashes.
And that’s because most of the time our weaknesses are our power. Like the boxer who knows that his strength is not his best, and learns how to avoid punches and take advantage of the right moment to turn his adversaries’ flaws against them.
Used to be hostages in an old sexist society, Hardened by the daily life training, that others avoid quietly, slipping their responsibilities in some others hands, women have another way to see the world.
Fed by the conviction of what is fair, reasonable and not necessarily aggressive. Aware that compassion and hope are not weaknesses but a magical cure that dissolves hatred which venomously corrodes those that don’t believe in them. Knowing that their male partners are carrying away lots of vulnerability (even physical), although they try hard to hide it.
Women’s apparent frailty hides a hard soul, clear and valuable like a diamond. Flexible like bamboo that bends under the wind to stand back when it’s over. A shelter for the tired hearts, with a word always ready to encouragement, with a gesture that lends a hand to fight disappointment.
Powerful with the legitimate power that confers competence, patience and constancy, and the inexhaustible ability of endless fighting. Friends, mothers, sisters, who you can always depend on, in your breakdowns. Those that eventually don’t age, because every wrinkle is nothing but collecting knowledge, understanding and serenity.
You who look at the world with another eye, with the kindness which what you behold children’s naughtiness, with the infinite justice you would like your kids to inherit. You that always wear the armor of the most tempered steel for daily fight, and even so you keep untouched underneath, no crease, no stain, the silky dress of your fondness.
I’d like to raise your prayers to a court of high justice. One which could actually listen to weak and unprotected people’s cry, one that truly distributes resources with fairness, attending to real value and ability… And that’s because in that world that sometimes appears so left aside of God Father’s hands, I whish that He looked at us with a motherly eye, with a woman’s look.
It’s the ethereal versatility, the vulnerability, the ability to understand, to apprehend the indefinite. It’s the empathy that provides the awareness of being eternal and endurable, the enormous resilience of Phoenix Bird, reborn from their own ashes.
And that’s because most of the time our weaknesses are our power. Like the boxer who knows that his strength is not his best, and learns how to avoid punches and take advantage of the right moment to turn his adversaries’ flaws against them.
Used to be hostages in an old sexist society, Hardened by the daily life training, that others avoid quietly, slipping their responsibilities in some others hands, women have another way to see the world.
Fed by the conviction of what is fair, reasonable and not necessarily aggressive. Aware that compassion and hope are not weaknesses but a magical cure that dissolves hatred which venomously corrodes those that don’t believe in them. Knowing that their male partners are carrying away lots of vulnerability (even physical), although they try hard to hide it.
Women’s apparent frailty hides a hard soul, clear and valuable like a diamond. Flexible like bamboo that bends under the wind to stand back when it’s over. A shelter for the tired hearts, with a word always ready to encouragement, with a gesture that lends a hand to fight disappointment.
Powerful with the legitimate power that confers competence, patience and constancy, and the inexhaustible ability of endless fighting. Friends, mothers, sisters, who you can always depend on, in your breakdowns. Those that eventually don’t age, because every wrinkle is nothing but collecting knowledge, understanding and serenity.
You who look at the world with another eye, with the kindness which what you behold children’s naughtiness, with the infinite justice you would like your kids to inherit. You that always wear the armor of the most tempered steel for daily fight, and even so you keep untouched underneath, no crease, no stain, the silky dress of your fondness.
I’d like to raise your prayers to a court of high justice. One which could actually listen to weak and unprotected people’s cry, one that truly distributes resources with fairness, attending to real value and ability… And that’s because in that world that sometimes appears so left aside of God Father’s hands, I whish that He looked at us with a motherly eye, with a woman’s look.
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