Ons Mustafa & Sondos Al Sad
“It’s a poor sort of memory that only works backwards,’ says the White Queen to Alice.”
Lewis Carroll
While I work diligently on identifying healing tools and introducing them to communities I work with, I am fully aware of my own journey towards it as a wounded healer.
My precious one shared her well-crafted poem “My mother’s daughter”. Her words have an empowering insight towards generational heritage of pains and gains. I hope that sharing it with you brings awareness to what healthcare workers and community advocates may be going through. To all wounded healers out there, your families are dealing with it:
I am my mother’s daughter, bound by blood,
A complex tale of love and strife
I look up to her, her strength and her grace,
But as we grow, our paths diverge, a separate space.
In my eyes, she’s a towering figure of might,
I yearn to emulate her, to shine in her light,
I want to make her proud, to walk in her shoes,
But within our similarities, conflict brews.
We clash and argue, like fire against ice,
Our differences mounting, we pay the price,
Her expectations weigh heavy on my soul,
While I long to break free, to forge my own role.
In her presence, I feel both warmth and disdain,
A mingling of love and lingering pain,
For the traits we share, both beauty and strife,
Remind me of a past that cuts like a knife.
I am my mother’s daughter, I can’t deny,
But as I grow, our paths seem to imply,
That the pain she caused, I must now transcend,
To find my own truth, to truly comprehend.
The mirror reflects her face, etched in my own,
A constant reminder of the seeds she’s sown,
I’m disgusted with myself, for the pain we’ve endured,
Yet I can’t escape the love, so deep, so obscured.
In this hectic dance, a bond remains,
A love-hate relationship, forever ingrained,
I strive for understanding, a bridge to mend,
The fragments of a bond that may never fully blend.
I am my mother’s daughter, a bittersweet truth,
A tale of contradictions, an unyielding booth,
And though our journey may be wrought with strife,
I’ll embrace my own path, navigate this life.
For deep within, beneath the layers of pain,
A seed of love persists, a flickering flame,
I’ll learn from her triumphs, her mistakes I’ll unroll,
As I grow into myself, a story yet told.
I am my mother’s daughter, this fact won’t sway,
With wounds and lessons, we’ll continue to grow,
A tapestry of love and hate, intertwined, and so,
I am my mother’s daughter, forever entwined,
A complex bond, with both heartache and kind,
In our differences and similarities, I’ll find my way,
For I am my mother’s daughter, come what may.
