The Mask of Motherhood

I wrapped myself in tenderness,

a veil spun from sleepless nights

and whispered lullabies.

Motherhood became my mask—

not of performance,

but of sacred care.

A shield woven from love,

a fortress built of devotion.

I guarded her with a fierceness

that silenced my own breaking.

I hid behind the softness,

behind the endless giving,

behind the mask that said:

I am whole, because she must be safe.

But even sacred masks fray.

Even devotion cracks at the edges.

And beneath the veil,

I am still a woman—

longing, ruptured,

worthy of protection too.