Mother

 

When I was little, you taught me how to comb my hair

Tying a ribbon in its blackbird mass

when i was older, starting to grow breasts

you yelled at me when I took off my bra

as if It was a crime for my body to be free

You cut my hair and stopped talking with me

I reached my teens, played sports, discovered boys

you searched my room, destroyed my faery dreams

I read a book you said was total trash

you burned it, called me lesbian

It was two years after that I was kissed

yes, by a boy, despite my mothers "fears"

when at 18 I lost my purity - she cried

and said i was unclean

who gave her right to judge me to be bad?

I know so many who have done far less

or yes perhaps far more and earned less scorn

but they did not have her to whom they must confess

If I did not confess she called me liar

made up her mind by what she thought she saw

and to this day I still suppress desire

suppress myself if she is in the STATE

she taught me ritually to hate

to hate myself, my image, and my mind

my dreams, my choices, my desires

she taught me that I was dirty. wrong.

her spit of scorn soon put out my fires

Yes, there is bitterness within

my voice grows hoarse from tears of useless rage

until i leave, until i fly this nest

I will forever be locked in her cage

and even when I fly, take wing

I will be burdened by the words she screams

I see her face jeer at me on the street

I hear her curses follow in my dreams

Isn't a mother made to care?

to nurture?, cherish? teach and love?

where did she earn her hell's degree

that chooses not embrace but shove?

Whatever else I bring with me

when in the end I break the tie

I know that I will never be

like her - until the day i die.

 

One lesson i learn every day, over and over, is that there are many forms of what some people see as "love" - what i face on a daily basis is not love, not in a nurturing sense, but a controlling, molding, screaming bid for dominance. If ever I do have children, i have sworn to myself, that i will not repeat the cycle. Her mother did this to her, she is doing this to me - i will not let the next generation taste the same bitter gall. Perhaps in time that will be true. Until then, i must learn to live with what i cannot as yet leave behind.

 

Silver

the yOni bookshelf Goddess Gifts

yOni now blogging at cliterallyspeaking.blogspot.com

 

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