Less of a Woman

As I felt my knees touch the ground
And my fingers clutch beads
I found my prayers seeking out my Mother
To whom I posed many inquiries:

"Oh Holy Mother," I asked
"If they took my womb
Would I be less of a woman?"

"God did not choose me for my womb,"
Came her reply.

"Oh Holy Mother," I questioned
"If they took my breasts
Would I then be less of a woman?"

"God did not choose me for my breasts,"
Came her reply.

"But oh Holy Mother," I pleaded
"If they took all that made me a woman
How then would I remember that I am a woman?"

"Sweet child," she replied
"God did not choose me for my womb
But for my spirit, which could cradel
The world in love and faith.

"God did not choose me for my breasts
But for my willingness, to give all I could
To those in need of it.

"God did not choose me because I
Looked like a woman
Bled like a woman
Birthed like a woman.

"He chose me because I am a woman.
We are a special breed,
Created to provide what man was missing
And regardless of what we may be missing
We will never cease to shine
As the finishing touch
God placed on His creation."

I stood up in this moment
Placed my beads in the box
Smiled at this revelation
And whispered quietly,

"Amen."