Cultural Mother

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.

Published by teaatmine

Tea lover, tea brings people and cake to the table. Whats to lose! Art and culture lovers are my nearest and dearest. I work in mental health and I am a carer (not sure if I prefer to use this word for me personally but it puts things into context) to family members who have mental health issues. This blog is to help me rant, explain, theorize, make friends and explore the world of mental health with like minded people.

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