Have you met my mother's daughter? hair pulled tight to keep ears from sticking out too far slicked back with dippitydoo long skirts over banged up knees that preferred to kneel in the dirt by the creek run away by herself find the meadow of flowers tucked behind the woods where her voice could roar and bounce across the hills sing songs that were silly and dance in the dirt The one who was a little too much so they hushed her with rules and set her up to fail if she opened her mouth but gave her a place of belonging just for her IF she was quiet and submissive go to church but not speak in it bring casseroles and jello cakes in colorful dishes leave them on the table for others to consume. give her body scrub the toilets hold the babies wash the mud and dirt off the floor and the shoes and the clothes pull that wild curly hair tighter pin it into a bun hide it! all the wild glory behind a piece of pleated cloth cover those once-skinned knees with pantyhose please don't let your skin be seen give up the things you want sacrifice with joy give your life away but hold on to purity and keep those curves covered work harder, don't stop wipe the tears of those around you but hide yours it's not okay to need or want when others are suffering sit here for family photo hide the disaster that lurks beneath the picture perfect smiles pasted over mental health that is rotting turn the lights brighter to cover the darkness that holds us clenches us in a grip so tight hold the one who wants to die fix her all by yourself because you have god and that is all you need besides there is no one who sees you all alone carrying a load too big staggering stumbling all for crumbs of praise recognition that comes for good girls who are too much so they must give too much Have you met my mother's daughter? with the load so big it would crush her if she tried to lay it down her only way out then to just keep going keep saving others since she cannot save herself from a load of being too much so she crosses continents and gives her life away because there was too much grief to stay in the place where my mother's daughter had to grow herself up alone be her father and her mother knead the bread and be the bread until one day she was all used up and the sun no longer shown on her inner landscape and she had nothing left with which to pretend that it was light and she was all right so she fell down down down under the load she had carried for far too long and it crushed her split her into a thousand pieces And then Glory! she found her banged up knees in the beautiful dirt by the creek she found her hands in the meadow of flowers tucked behind the woods and there was her voice! roaring and bouncing across the hills singing songs that were silly and there were her feet dancing in the dirt and when she looked into the stream it stilled as a mirror and she saw finally saw my mother's daughter as she was always meant to be and there the wind caressed her tumbled her curls round her shoulders and under the light of a sumptuous moon she found what they were always afraid of she found her whole self her too-much not-enough self that was actually just right so she stepped fully into her skin all of it and the sky dripped giant tears of joy while the hills laughed with relief at the sheer beauty of a woman who finally stepped into her whole skin.
When I was 5 years old, we rented a little house next to a pig farm. Beyond the yard and the pig pen was a lovely little creek. Behind it, the woods. I would venture off, exploring, every chance I had. One day I discovered a meadow of wild spring flowers, tucked into a corner of the woods. Some of my earliest moments of happiness were there in those woods.
Time passed and we moved. From house to house. State to state. I was born a granddaughter of a preacher. Later I became the daughter of one. I grew up in a tight community. But I also grew up alone. Learned how to hide the un-health of others. Carried burdens that were too heavy for a child. Some things are not yet speak-able because, contrary to the stories some tell about me, I really do love and care for my family.
But this poem has bubbled to the surface and wants to be given wings. So I release it to the winds that watched me step fully into my own skin. All of it. And know it will be taken to my sisters who still believe they are too-much, not-enough.
And the next time the wind roars past your ears, don’t be fooled. It’s never just the wind. It’s another one of us stepping fully into our own skin.
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