A Mother, A Daughter


The silk of her child’s skin,
Reminiscent of fabric hidden in drawers.
Her daughter colors in sketchbooks,
Better used than left untouched at all.

Her mother’s footsteps echo,
Like her orders in the halls.
A domineering controller,
Instilled the inherited fear
Of all her ancestors.

Born into a cyclical system of slaves,
Always a damsel, but she’ll never be saved.
Her dreams had dimmed, a sunset on a grave.

Decades lost in the generational trap,
Fifty years in shackles of hereditary bitterness,
A lingering stain she can never escape.

But this time will be different.
Her daughter can leave the chains behind.
She’ll quarantine the curse
And let her live untainted.

This time will be different, it has to be.
So I’ll be the one to set her free.
Her story’s been told and sacrifice heard.
I hope that the burden’s eased off her shoulders.
I hope that my mother finds the life she deserves.

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