I arrived a professional
an activist, political
I was mothered.

Recognised was my intelligence
yet in question was my competence
to know what was needed
to name the support I needed
met with an overriding
taking over.
As I recognised
it futile
to specify
the support I’d like
withdrawing, I declined
to specify
playing into the role
I was expected to play.

With the word ‘darling’
tone of voice matching
I was set in place
not to speak horizontally to you
but diagonally up to you.

My privacy I’d always assumed
Your entry within, you assumed
in a statement
not a question of permission
charging shock through my system
by paralysis tailed
I was unable to communicate
to my peers that I wasn’t okay.
Left with a grime that doesn’t wash away
with the falling of hot water
scented soap lathers
only with the passing of time
the seeking of God
for his cleansing.

To mother
calls for a response from the inner child
rather than from the mutual adult.
To mother
I wonder
whose needs this fulfils.
To extend a role of support
beyond that needed
beyond that wanted
beyond that requested
other than requested
is disabling
disempowering
calls for surrender
nurtures passivity
a sense of powerlessness
smothers autonomy
a sense of control
choice
ownership of self
of flesh
flesh, so intertwined with soul.
Ownership, the granting of permission
rather than submission
to in regard to one’s self
someone else’s decisions.