Why is ambition described as nude?
Must we shame it by making it rude?
When did desire become a ‘dirty’ word?
Just ‘get on with being seen, not heard’.
Mothering can feel ‘stuck’ like you don’t have a voice.
Expected to stay home and care for the boys.
You’re a mother – no need for a career,
your deadline for ambition, expired last year.
No need to brush you hair, or put on high heels,
When you’re wiping bums and making hot meals.
I miss the commute, dreaming out of the window,
Coffee shop queues and the vocational rainbow.
The grass is always greener, I hear you say,
But ambition can’t be suppressed or held at bay.
So I’ll keep on trugging, plugging away.
Maybe my future self lives with regret?
You have a baby, or did you forget?
They cut the cord but haven’t broken the chain.
Your thoughts are redundant now, blame ‘baby brain’.
Your meetings and discussions come at what cost?
‘You’ve made it’ they smile, but what have you lost?
Let’s flip a coin and you’ll always lose
Now return to your stuck point and swallow your views.
What if ambition dressed down for the day,
It became comfy and we all felt okay?
No more apologies for pursuing your path,
Side stepping questions and provoking wrath.
Why can’t we work freely, on our own terms?
Not pods, water filters and office based germs.
Finding space to create is never a luxury,
Self-expression is a bare, human necessity.
If you ignore the yearning, you’ll still hear your truth.
Even if you deem ambition as selfish uncouth.
Mothering doesn’t count as your purpose, it’s not all that you are,
Wake up and make changes, now is the time,
This isn’t just another frothy coffee induced rhyme.
Stay sharp, look fresh, hold your head up high,
Don’t get absorbed in navel gazing and wondering why.
Each breath is vital energy, don’t waste it on a lingering sigh.
Maybe ambition isn’t reserved for others,
Maybe it’s newly adorned and designed for creative mothers.