The Soldier, The Poet, The Queen: The Faces Each Mother Shoulders

Layout by Erizha Jane Santos

Irrefutably tough.

Bearing armor her body could barely carry and an unyielding resolve able to contest even the most arduous men to ever step foot on this planet, she endures the burden of others far more than those she carries herself. Through countless untold battles, suffered blemishes, and abrupt hardships, she stands tall—chin high, pride higher—and fazed she never was. 

And yet, despite it all—the bravery, the strength, the resilience—she remained human: a loving soul with boundless adoration for those she holds dear, and an ambitious dreamer who never once stepped back in fulfilling even the most far-fetched dreams for them.

And a soldier is she.

Inimitably caring.

One trait often viewed as something so mundane, and yet remains a luxury to both grant and uphold. Nonetheless, as though she had earned every cent forged, she is caring—selfless, even—so much so that an endless amount of affection is given to her children, even if they barely are anymore.

And she holds the title proudly, welcoming the responsibilities that came with it: to listen tenderly to the life she’s living, to remember each detail her children share, and to love selflessly toward her family. 

And a poet is she.

Illimitable love.

A throne sits underneath an unadorned roof—no designed ceilings, no glaring bulbs—within a home built with firm cement and humble precepts. It remains her treasure, despite not being able to take a seat on what’s justly hers. 

And within the chaos of the walls she rules, she does all things with tremendous adoration for her family who share her love. 

Her overflowing heart—the living soul of her household.

And a queen is she.

A soldier, a poet, a queen—a telling tale of a mother whose callous hands had woven stories from chaos and hardships. And mothers—they listen. Mothers—they give. Mothers—they love. 

And to become a mother—it takes a stinging graze. But to become a mom, it etches a deep scar that overflows with love, care, and bravery for her children.

For the unconditional love given, despite having so little left for themselves; for the patience upheld when mistakes and exhaustion begin to shroud; for selflessly giving, as though money wasn’t a concern.

To the soldiers, relentlessly pushing through the depths and onslaught of tribulation. To the poets, mutely observing the silent stories hidden beneath each grin. To the queens, endlessly sacrificing their weathered lives, golden history, and weary hearts.

To all the unwavering, resilient, and persevering mothers: 

Oh-lay, oh-lai, oh-Lord.