A woman’s shame

I’ve felt my mother’s pain 

Borne my mother’s shame

Stood beside her as she held her shoulders high while whispering to me to do the same.

From that perspective I painfully realised that there are just some paths a woman cannot deny…and although this same path i tried to avoid…it found me anyway holding me ransom for life.

I thought by will I could escape the same fate I saw my mother n other women face.  not the weight of the 50 pounds I gained for the 9 months I bore to see the 8lbs 4oz of her…but the despair I saw in their eyes…the way they watered beneath their evolved crust. the way some smiled and tried to keep their children together all the time behind closed doors crying, the magic of love…the beauty of trust…absent…there for an opaque moment like billows of smoke…slowing dissipating…vanishing as if it were your imagination.

Confused not sure who to hate or who to blame…I find myself behind closed doors crying again and again…one year..two years…3 years…four…the pain is as strong as it was the day before. no aspirin no pain killa no other nigga can erase the history of your face…ur lies…the disgrace.  I often wonder what it will take. how do I manage this juxtaposed hate.  

I love my daughter but I curse the day he was born 

A thief of the most destructive kind. 

Stealing My innocence…my fairytale…my family…my attempt at exemplary motherhood. 

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