Inheritance
by Menahil Shahid
Papa reprimands: don’t slouch or you and I will become the same
his wife’s misery coaxes me into agreement
somehow I grew up into him – nobody noticed.
My back is straight so it isn’t that
but my head often hangs down hours spent staring at the stories woven into my hands helpless
that too is me and not him
the last time I laughed when was the last time?
a blue circle appears on the calendar every time I do stashed away in a drawer for being so sterile empty clean unmarked
I want some blue circles. Papa won’t buy them for me anymore.
Drops of murky muddy river water fall into his cup
we find our cures differently from people what sticks will stick he chanted like he did everything as if comprehension was beyond me drilling words into me, you’re just a man
he liked failed medicine a lifetime of failure
I developed a taste for water some man offered me water once
Sacrilege girls don’t drink water mother died mourning the loss of my character:
stop drinking this putrid water stop with the poisoned air nobody will want you
I want myself enough.
I used to pour sweetness inside me what sticks will stick to the bitterness corrupting polluting it overcame the ghastly odor the burning taste
bought my shot glasses from thrift stores is anyone selling blue circles
I could do with some secondhand happiness this morning
if only for a few seconds?
mama papa your daughter is a beggar.
it takes half the night to be consumed in the memory of love
if only I’d built tolerance for love instead of my failed medicine.
papa once caught me sobbing over the mess of papers
Picked up his own pen fingers trying to trace a language he hardly knew
until his own tears looked like mine continued to scribble away in his mother tongue
quietly gave me a reprieve write my story write your own story
sell something sell us all money is peace what is person over peace? nothing.
deciphered the story of his lost laughter in a language I learned too late.
All I have is a piece of paper a weary childhood unshed kindness
and papa’s harsh words.
visual by Manal Ahmed.