In Our Own Skin

She is so young

& her fingernails look much the way mine do…

ravaged by anxiety.

A telltale sign in my family of girls

Unhappy inside our own skin.

I caught her

Dipping fingers into my lip gloss,

putting powder on her cheeks

Enthusiastically curling mascara

On her lashes

As if she was waving goodbye

To herself in the mirror.

She said, “I just wish I could be

Pretty like you mamma.”

I told her you’re beautiful.

She lowered her eyes and shook her head.

My mind flashed back

To the countless comments I’ve made

About myself in front of her

And the comments my mother

And grandmother said in front of me.

They were lessons I didn’t realize I was learning

Traditions I never wanted to pass on.

My insecurity the hand- me – down

I never intended you to wear

But I see you

Slipping it over your head

To set around your neck

Like some heir loomed noose.

Our family tree has hung too many of as this way.

Forcing us to bloom on limbs

Crowded with disappointments

Until we snap under the weight

Of all the ways we think

We don’t measure up.

Seasons of lowered eyes

Generations of bowed heads

Shaking the beauty from their minds.

Convinced they aren’t enough

For a full harvest

Producing ripened globes of women

Who don’t know how to taste anything but bitter

But you are still sweet

Your heart hasn’t been twisted into a pit

Wrinkled with worry and self-loathing

Child, I’ve worried enough for the both of us.

I stay warm to the touch

Cuz grudges burn hotter the longer

They are allowed to simmer under skin with an excellent memory.

Don’t mimic doubts you see in me

You are your mother’s daughter.

Trust me, I know

I’ve haunted the same side of my mother’s night stand

Watching her put on makeup

Memorizing the brush strokes

As if beauty was something

You could paint on if you got the angles right.

I’ve pinched almost every inch of my body

Complaining that I’m too fat

Having curves in places

I’ve been told should be flat

And I’m sorry

For not being a better example

Of how to love yourself

Because you are a collage of the best pieces of me

You are the fruit I cannot bear to let spoil

You have made me see

This revolving self-hatred

This cycle must be broken

And believe me when I say we are worth the stillness.