motherhood

i look at the ancient temple with my young eyes wide open,
the image of the Goddess bending over with her overwhelming breast.
i ask the priest with childish innocence and he tells me the reason.
she is the mother of the world, nurturing and nourishing all with her breast.
and hence the image of motherhood, femininity gets ingrained in my mind.
i wonder does she need a big breast to contain the love for all?
i grow up everyday, feeling i can too nourish and nurture but fear the lack of body parts
and tell myself motherhood is not an instinct but just genetics and a pair of breasts.
and then my friend i meet you, in a far off land, not a priest, far from it actually,
and you say a thing a simple thing, i do not need to be a woman to be a mother.
how utterly simple it is that it becomes profound and breaks my slumber.
now i know,your chromosomes might let your grow beard or bleed every month,
but now i refuse to be a chemical reaction, with predetermined outcome.