(poem by Sana Agarwal & illustration by Charlie To)
(TW: body dysmorphia, eating disorders, loss, self-harm)
everyone here can see your grief
take a seat, pass the tea around
it’s past supper but it’s still tuesday and carrot cake never gets old
conversations about how losing someone is an ache that doesn’t silence have been charting the halls, we never really move on from loss we just move forward with it
something about broken cutlery and swallowing so hard that you choke on your food, broken first family later
the room smells of lavender from the tea and maya from three houses down progresses to talk about how in middle school she’d puke more than she’d eat, how she’s still struggling to decipher which mirror she lost herself to
and at that moment i think to myself
how with time grief takes its course from a scream that doesn’t silence to lingering whispers.
the cake calls for loud chumming and lousy small talk – heartbreak and something about pressing on wounds until fountains of blood spew out, scrubbing the blood clean for months to come
i talk about how i can only always ever picture myself leaving and that i’m so far from knowing myself i can barely draw the periphery
it’s dusky and warm outside, getting darker by the minute as we talk about how the more you breathe the more you gasp for air and some more about anger and guilt and all things human.
take a seat
everyone here can see your grief
it’s much nicer, some solace to breathe
nothing like banter and bonding after the battlefield,
we’re all women that hurt and heal
from lara the cat lady’s greying hair to the youngest one just hitting puberty
we’re all humans.
come sit
take a seat
everyone here can see your grief
and so we talk brazenly on tuesday’s over tea
something something about grieving and shattering and aching
more so about
comprehending and healing
but most of all
about
camaraderie.
