By Nashitah Noorayn Chowdhury
i have tasted birth ten times now,
nestling in the corners of a plastic swing set
and a box full of halcyon days
through the thunderous claps from my mother
trapped with her own little demons rummaging her mind
or when i’ve been sought as a ripe apple from a man’s eyes
maybe the first cursed betrayal
following the shrouded grief
of a tear so trifling during that october night
hold it; hold me; hold this;
but a pause was never the reason for my broken house
or leaving the city of river and the hearth of my blood
with a name that echoes every city in my heart
when i left him with a lingering goodbye this time
the sense of change dissipates my body
with every hurl and curl folded against me
i have tasted birth ten times now,
and each time it alters an intangible part of me
Nashitah Noorayn Chowdhury is a Bangladeshi-Canadian writer. Exploring themes of identity and
belonging, her prose and poetry spring from introspective musings at dawn and the echoes of distant
memories. She can be reached at @nashitahnoorayn on Instagram.
Hot Pot Magazine 