“Hija de tu madre.” by Elisha Fernandez | Handpicked Wednesday | One Poem Only

Wednesdays on One Poem Only are Handpicked, a new feature where I go deeper into the poem of the day and discuss what made it stand out to me.“Hija de tu madre.”Elisha Fernandez“Eres hija de tu madre.”“You are your mother’s daughter,” is a phrase I heard growing up,from strangers,family members,friends,most repeated by my own mother.I wanted to claw myself out of my skinPanicked by the implicationThat I did not belong to myselfI could not crawl above my stationLimited to the constraints and expectations people thrust on me,Like a hermit crab forced to stay in a shell too-small,No room to grow or become my own personKeeping me trapped against the wall, a doll stuck between pavement,yearning to bloomMy achievements, struggles, and experiencesNo longer my doing, the credit stripped awayLoneliness taking over as I stay, rewatching the events of the past twenty-some yearsThrough the lens of someone else’s existenceIt was so unbearableI eventually avoided the topic altogetherIt felt easier to snip the thread we twined, connecting us,so that I could cement my own self, my own roleIn your mind, in mineThe separation frayed us both,But I learned that it was healthier for us to co-existSide by side, free from the harm we imposed on each otherThan to be attached at the hipAnd that time apartGave me the space to see you, truly,To take you down from the pedestal,To get to know you fullyI think I’ve accepted that I am my mother’s daughter,In the sense that it’s true,I inherited her stubbornness and pride,Her love for words and witty sayings,Her craving to be important, the hunger to be accepted,I inherited her precision and wide-eyed curiosityBeyond the superficial, it’s hard to admit that while she birthed me and learned me,she also weaved her own insecurities and doubts into the fabric of my beingShe tried, and failed, to love me in her way, staining me with blood and tears and loathingShe imparted her wisdoms and her wrongdoings,I see the person I could’ve become, had circumstances been differentI may have been born in her image,But I stitched myself into the likeness of what I desiredI became unraveled;A bolt of cloth to gather anewI hemmed the tattered edges, patched up the holes,And threw out the patterns I had always followedSoy hija de mi madre,But can’t I also be my own?Can’t I existWithout relinquishing to the image ofAn identity I don’t claimAnd acknowledgeThat I am also my mother’s daughter,In the sense that I mothered myselfMore from Elisha Fernandez ↓@artistaelisha on InstagramWatch Handpicked WednesdayA new feature where I go deeper into the poem of the day and discuss what made it stand out to me. Watch on Instagram at @rembrandts.cure.Support + Stay Connected to OPOIf you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.Two poems. One poet. Let the words keep moving.