My Mum was a fire-dragon Goddess, not feminist: A poem 

I didn’t learn feminism from my mother 

I learnt the profundity of womanhood from her. 

I was a baby then, when they raised placards 

My mother wasn’t even aware of feminism 

Her womanly pride was in nurturing 

She was a fire-dragon Goddess, not feminist 

And she had six of us. No claim of right over body. 

Her abbacy was duty, her legacy was spirit 

Mum and Dad didn’t think about male and female 

They thought they were collaborators 

in the business of raising six of us 

They believed in God. And in His right over 

life and death. And in doing His job 

of leading by example, teaching by illustration 

There was much courage in simplicity 

Stereotypes were not typecast 

But the roles were played out in grey from black and white 

Selflessness comes from acceptance of the provident 

Individualism is a factory of discord 

Generosity is organic like the earth, 

the sky. We all become mountains 

when we have a molehill’s humility 

These peaks touch the stars 

to be crowned with them