my best friend watches me drape my headscarf
before stepping out into the afternoon light
he says nothing though he watches me (moments ago
we were boys i am still wearing my cropped t-shirt)
sometimes you have to hold onto your ancestors
with both hands and saffron knuckles
even though they are all women
(and an intrinsic part of you has let them down)
to keep yourself from drowning
in the midnight blue of the chunni at the back of your closet
i will sing gentle tones over firelight and i will make my brother
rose-water milk and i will brag to anyone that listens
that i look exactly like my dadima and if my badi daadi saw me
she'd dust the moths from my skirts and she'd say i was a
beautiful woman and that would be enough
Poems in Passage
Thank you to our valued partners
TTC • Aga Khan Museum • Pattison
Design and layout by Marissa Korda and Marta Ryczko
Picture of the Part of me Is Forgetting poem taken on the TTC subway in March, 2025.
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