For this year’s Mother’s Day, I invite you, my dearest WOMAN (mom or not) , to read and deeply connect with two of my favorite poems about women and motherhood.  As I wrote in previous years, all women are mothers because all womens are nurturers, healers, givers, helpers and volunteers.

Women initiate, create and maintain relationships; they bring people together; they keep families close; and they create LIFE. Unfortunately, Western societies do not support the flourishing of girls and women; on the contrary, being a woman/mother comes with a significant degree of risk.  

In my work with women, one common thread across cultures, countries and languages is strikingly clear: women feel very alone, unsupported and burdened beyond what’s humanly possible (raising children, often as single mothers; working full-time; surviving domestic abuse of all kinds; succumbing to chronic stress).

That’s why my coaching programs come with a weekly group call and the monthly Women’s Circle: because we need ongoing support as women, from other women.

To read my previous articles on Women, go to my website, under Articles, and write “Mother’s Day” in the search box (or click here).

And now…. the POEMS 🧚🧚


Phenomenal Woman
By Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I’m not cute or built to suit a fashion model’s size   
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,
It’s in the reach of my arms,
The span of my hips,   
The stride of my step,   
The curl of my lips.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,   
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,   
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.   
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.   
I say,
It’s the fire in my eyes,   
And the flash of my teeth,   
The swing in my waist,   
And the joy in my feet.   
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.

Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered   
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them,   
They say they still can’t see.   
I say,
It’s in the arch of my back,   
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed.   
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.   
When you see me passing,
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It’s in the click of my heels,   
The bend of my hair,   
the palm of my hand,   
The need for my care.   
’Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That’s me.

🧚 Watch Maya Angelou reciting the poem here

🧚 Savage Daughter
by Karen Kahan/Wyndreth Berginsdottir
I am my mother’s savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot
Cursing sharp stones
I am my mother’s savage daughter
I will not cut my hair
I will not lower my voice
My mother’s child is a savage
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones
In the faces of cats, in the falling of feathers
In the dancing of fire
In the curve of old bones
I am my mother’s savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot
Cursing sharp stones
I am my mother’s savage daughter
I will not cut my hair
I will not lower my voice
My mother’s child dances in darkness
She sings heathen songs
By the light of the moon
And watches the stars and renames the planets
And dreams she can reach them
With a song and a broom
I am my mother’s savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot
Cursing sharp stones
I am my mother’s savage daughter
I will not cut my hair
I will not lower my voice
We are all brought forth out of darkness
Into this world, through blood and through pain
And deep in our bones, the old songs are waking
So sing them with voices if thunder and rain
We are our mother’s savage daughters
The ones who run barefoot
Cursing sharp stones
We are our mother’s savage daughters
We will not cut our hair
We will not lower our voice
We are our mother’s savage daughters
The ones who run barefoot
Cursing sharp stones
We are our mother’s savage daughters
We will not cut our hair
We will not lower our voice
We are our mother’s savage daughters
The ones who run barefoot
Cursing sharp stones
We are our mother’s savage daughters
We will not cut our hair
We will not lower our voice

🧚Listen to Ekaterina Shelehova singing the song here