Nadera Naeema Ohi
Ma, I didn’t know what to say to you today,
so I’m opening this diary to talk to you.
Sorry I don’t tell you these things in person. It’s just
that I can’t find the words, even when asked.
Some, I hope I never tell you. Not for a lack of trust
but because I imagine it and I am an aurai: 10,000 feet in the air, wings slashed.
Lately, time doesn’t feel very real
I dream of a girl staring through the stained glass of a cathedral, and she has no reflection
… hey, did you ever get off those buses and wish you were back home for another meal?
Hey, how long d’you think the rest of me can survive this room, praying without direction –
Ma, I’m sorry I cried into your neck the other night.
I was thinking of the one certainty we can cling to
and how even after all this time, it is still a darkness so overwhelmingly bright –
don’t worry about me. Goodnight, I love you.