Written by Sadiyya Khan
We strung up the balloons,
Gathered the family,
Said our speech, ate our sweets
And signed the book,
Before it’s closing,
Yet it still felt unceremonious.
I thought if I tugged it behind me,
From its string,
And they smiled at the flag in the sky,
And said
“Newcomer, let us begin.”
Then I’d feel more than welcome.
That I’m wearing a mark,
Stating “can learn fast!”
So I can count the days,
On fingers, before I fit in.
But it won’t work like that,
And I’m glad,
Because I knew I’d settled,
When it became:
A memory.
I can’t drag the string,
Back to the spine,
And separate the last chapter,
From the one titled ‘mine’,
But I can flip through the pages,
Frantic or slow,
And know that it was
Truth she wrote.
Rerum cognoscere causus,
Or don’t, but it’s the difference.
Between slamming the book
Closed every time the ink bleeds,
And cleaning the smudging;
Reading it through.’
