Hail fell on her and so did sleet,
Men trampled her under their feet.
The wind would blow dust in her eyes,
And lightning fell down from the skies.
Life’s heavy rain had made her wet,
And who she loved had made her fret.
Then from those ashes she would rise,
Mature in years and much more wise,
She is a mother, daughter, wife,
She runs this cycle, we call life.
The strength that she has in her soul,
Has helped her move towards her goal.
No man can face what she can bear,
The strength she has, we’re unaware.
How can she fall and yet can rise?
Her inner strength, few can surmise.
Her outer beauty, man will seek,
But what’s inside, makes her unique.