Poetry by MJ L'Espérance

                ​patrick yagow CC




Becoming my Mother’s Daughter

"You are Marie-Élène's daughter!"

No insult stabbed me deeper
than the word 

daughter.

At home, I was called
by many names: 
“ungrateful daughter...                  undeserving daughter... 
                                dirty daughter...                 disrespectful daughter…”

I did not want to belong 
to her.

My mother - 
A crown of auburn curly hair that frames her stern, regal face.
A roaring voice that needs to climb on top of everyone else's.
A thunderous laugh that shatters the ground we walk on.

So I straighten 
my betraying curls 
until they hang limp 
over my face
like a weeping veil.
I soften 
my voice until the words
become shadows
of what I yearn to say.
I swallow my laughter 
so many times it shakes
me from inside,
like a fist
pounding to break 
free.

My mother -
An ever-changing litany of rules designed to catch weaknesses and faults.
A wildfire temper that blasts, that screams, that blinds, that taunts.
Iron hands that love so hard they squeeze until all the eggs are broken.

I move out
from under her grip,
farther than harm’s reach.
I still carry a dozen 
eggs so I am certain I always have enough 
shells to walk on.
I still put a bolt on my door.
I still sleep with the lights on.
I play music to drown 
out all the voices
that aren't mine.

My mother - 
Empty-handed, robbed by misfortunes and illnesses.
Bowed neck and brow from giving in to tenderness.
Deep lines etched on her skin: love lines, life lines, death lines.

One day,
I feel safe
enough to let my hair curl in the storm,
to shape my words back into substance,
to let my laugh come out as open hands.
One day,
I call home and I say,
"mom, can you give me the recipe
of the Sunday roast?". I say
mom, and isn't a curse
anymore.

One day, 
I visit her, 
and at the market,
a stranger grabs me by the shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I thought you were 
someone else!”

Yeah,
I get that a lot here,
I am Marie-Élène’s daughter!

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MJ L'Espérance is a bilingual writer and teacher who lives in Montreal, QC. She writes about mental health, chronic illness and disability, loss and lust. In her spare time, she likes to run after cats in back alleys and wander barefoot on the grass. 

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