Not Just Boys and Girls

They say within each heart, both moon and sun reside—
The gentle tide, the raging fire, the stillness and the stride.
Lord Shiva stands, in sacred grace, as half of each divine—
A truth so old, yet one we miss, while raising yours and mine.

“He’s such a boy,” we proudly say, “He loves to run and play,”
We praise his strength, his grit, his fire—but hush his tears away.
“She’s such a girl,” we softly smile, “She chats and loves to bake,”
We cherish calm, her dainty ways—but not the risks she’d take.

Yet somewhere in their growing hearts, a quiet voice may sigh,
“Must I be this… or only that? May I not also fly?”
For boys may need a soft embrace, a moment to be still,
To cry, be held, be told it’s fine to lean on love, not will.

And girls may wish to chase the wind, to scream and climb and race,
To feel the fire within their bones, not just their gentle grace.
But we, the mothers, shape their skies with stories we’ve been told—
Of what is “right” for boys and girls, of how a life should mold.

So let us pause and look again—beyond the pink and blue,
Beyond the roles, the quiet molds, to see what’s deep and true.
Our children are not halves of whole, not bound by form or frame—
They’re galaxies, with stars untamed, too wild to ever name.

Raise the child, not just the gender—let their full selves bloom.
Let them cry and laugh and rage and rest, make noise and fill a room.
For when we hold their every shade, both thunderstorm and pearl—
We raise not boys or girls alone—
We raise a brighter world.