One Poem Only
“Hija de tu madre.” by Elisha Fernandez | Handpicked Wednesday | One Poem Only
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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 skin > Panicked by the implication > That I did not belong to myself > I could not crawl above my station > > Limited 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 person > Keeping me trapped against the wall, a doll stuck between pavement, > yearning to bloom > > My achievements, struggles, and experiences > No longer my doing, the credit stripped away > Loneliness taking over as I stay, rewatching the events of the past twenty-some years > Through the lens of someone else’s existence > It was so unbearable > I eventually avoided the topic altogether > > It felt easier to snip the thread we twined, connecting us, > so that I could cement my own self, my own role > In your mind, in mine > > The separation frayed us both, > But I learned that it was healthier for us to co-exist > Side by side, free from the harm we imposed on each other > Than to be attached at the hip > > And that time apart > Gave me the space to see you, truly, > To take you down from the pedestal, > To get to know you fully > > I 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 curiosity > > Beyond 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 being > She tried, and failed, to love me in her way, staining me with blood and tears and loathing > She imparted her wisdoms and her wrongdoings, > I see the person I could’ve become, had circumstances been different > > I may have been born in her image, > But I stitched myself into the likeness of what I desired > I became unraveled; > A bolt of cloth to gather anew > I hemmed the tattered edges, patched up the holes, > And threw out the patterns I had always followed > > Soy hija de mi madre, > But can’t I also be my own? > Can’t I exist > Without relinquishing to the image of > An identity I don’t claim > And acknowledge > That I am also my mother’s daughter, > In the sense that I mothered myself More from Elisha Fernandez ↓ * @artistaelisha [https://www.instagram.com/artistaelisha/] on Instagram Watch Handpicked Wednesday A new feature where I go deeper into the poem of the day and discuss what made it stand out to me. Watch on Instagram [https://www.instagram.com/reel/DY3JyZipFfU/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==] at @rembrandts.cure [https://www.instagram.com/rembrandts.cure/]. Support + Stay Connected to OPO If you’d like to support the show, Substack [https://rembrandtscure.substack.com/] and Patreon [https://www.patreon.com/c/OnePoemOnly] 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.
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