my mother as a young woman

A woman’s life had rules
when I was growing up,
rules about silence, propriety
in its many guises;

masks, false smiles, pretended
enthusiasm for male ego –
being a good listener and always
maintaining silent approbation.

Those rules were cast in iron
and wrapped in a death grip ’round
heart and mind, restricting
blood to brain or any thought
of what  I might be, want, or do.

So it never occurred to me
to breathe into my heart,
question, create my own line
of boundary or defense – never thought
I had the power to say ‘NO!’
‘I’d really rather not,’ or
‘what about me?’

Those rules so silently slipped
from mother’s mouth to daughter’s duty,
silent words demanding silence –
there were of course other rules;
but as someone for whom words
are key, I found myself slow
to dismantle that mother tongue
that tore speech from me
and sent it into oblivion.

swb

Daily Post: Power, Rules