"Through His Eyes"

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If I were a man,
I would wake to the dawn with the world already expecting
strength in my bones,
certainty in my voice,
and a map to life’s answers folded neatly in my pocket.

I would walk the streets without glancing back,
my shadow unafraid of the night.
But in exchange,
the world would hand me the heavy armor of “protector”
and ask me to wear it,
even on days my heart trembled like a leaf in the wind.

If I were a man,
my worth might be counted in coins and titles,
in how tall I stood when the storms came.
I might hide my tears in the corners of quiet rooms,
swallowing them like bitter medicine,
because the world prefers men
who never taste their own sadness.

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They might call me leader,
provider,
pillar
but forget I am also flesh,
and even pillars crack when the weight is too much.

If I were a man,
I would try to be more than the mold.
I would speak for the voices
that history has tried to hush,
I would raise sons who know
that gentleness is not a weakness
and daughters who know
that their dreams have no ceilings.

I would take my brothers by the hand,
tell them they are allowed to feel,
to break,
to rebuild.
I would learn that strength is not
how tightly you clench your fist,
but how willingly you open it.

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Yet I know—
being a man is no easy script.
Freedom in some lines,
chains in others.
A different set of storms to stand in,
a different sky to measure yourself against.

If I were a man,
I would still be what I hope to be now,
human before anything else.
A man who listens,
who nurtures,
who stands tall not because he is told to,
but because it feels right.

If I were a man,
I would carry my heart openly
and hope the world could learn
that to be “man enough”
is simply to be
enough.