You said to be free
So you made me strong
Yet you keep me under your thumb
It’s a heavy thumb
It’s sharp and bumpy
And it hurts me
Like a rose with thorns
I’m pushing through
People can see my beautiful colour on the outside
But you see ugly
And shame
I try my best to be powerful
To show the world that the freedom you bestowed me with
Is true and real
Beautiful mother believe me there is no shame in bieng me and you
But your culture seeps in
In unreal and unfamiliar language
You shout and curse at me
Maybe it’s not you its the Jinn
You are kind
And once you were the rose
You were free and happy
But you were not under the thumb for so long like me
Please understand
That I am far gone
And the damage is done
Your culture has broken the head of the rose and left the thorns
For me to walk on
With you my mother
Side to side we walk on thorns
If only you weren’t a cultural mother
My world would be a sea of calm.
Tea at Mine 