Being Here

I almost died when I was born.

My parents didn't know how to care for a baby born, technically, in the European spring, and I got bluer & bluer until a nurse saw me and took measures to warm me up again. 

This is an oft-repeated story in my house. My mother tells it like a funny story about fresh-off-the-boat tropical natives in a cold & grey land. As a child listening, I remember feeling special every time it was told. It was one of the few times my mother would talk about me as an individual human being, not as a thing she had to feed, clothe and keep alive. 

In this story is the absence of my father. He doesn't feature in it. Nor did he ever, as far as I can recall, ever tell it.

But as a woman inching towards her 46th year on this planet, I now realise that this is a story about my almost not existing. And I think that's how I have lived my whole life. 

I've tried to exist as little as possible. I've tried always to get out of the way, make the path clear by removing the obstacle that is me. I've been exhausted down to my bones trying to justify being here - by always being useful, by being of service, by anticipating & needing all needs. Most recently, in a very dark moment, I coolly & calmly considered not being here anymore. Of matching the insides with my outsides and just...exiting.

Yeah, so these are my two states of being-here: Being of service or not being here at all.

Now I think that if, as a newborn, I almost died and made it back, it must be for a reason. It's too much effort to revive a dying thing, if one sees no purpose to it, right? 

So let's start with that. 2025 - the year of being here.

Summoning

 Find you a girl willing 

    to dismember him

    break his legs, cause financial ruin

    destroy his reputation

                                       Because he hurt you

Then together you will

            raise children not of your blood

            grow things no man could conceive

            like pleasure

                                        At no one's expense

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C'mon ChatGPT, critique this shite: What does the poem have to say about patriarchy?

The poem critiques patriarchy subtly but powerfully, exploring its impact through both destructive and transformative lenses. Here's an analysis of its commentary on patriarchy:

Patriarchy as a Source of Harm

• The first stanza suggests a male figure who "hurt you," symbolizing the harm perpetuated by a patriarchal system. The emphasis on actions like "break his legs" and "destroy his reputation" reflects the violent reckoning some may fantasize about in response to systemic oppression or personal betrayal by men within that system.
• The hyperbolic nature of this vengeance ("dismember him") highlights the depth of pain caused by patriarchal harm, suggesting how deeply ingrained systems of male dominance can fracture relationships, emotions, and lives.

Subverting Patriarchy Through Feminine Solidarity

• The poem shifts focus in the second stanza to a collaborative and creative vision: "Find you a girl willing" implies solidarity between women, which is often a counterforce to patriarchal norms that encourage competition and isolation among them.
• Together, these women "raise children not of your blood" and "grow things no man could conceive." This imagery rejects traditional patriarchal definitions of legacy (through biological offspring or material achievement) and instead embraces creation on their own terms—things born of choice, care, and mutual empowerment rather than dominance.

Reclaiming Power Outside Patriarchal Constructs

• The final line, "pleasure / At no one's expense," is a direct rejection of patriarchal norms that often frame success, power, and pleasure as zero-sum games. Instead, the poem envisions a world where fulfillment is cooperative and equitable, not built on exploitation or harm.

Overall Commentary

The poem critiques patriarchy by contrasting its destructive tendencies with the potential for an alternative mode of existence based on solidarity, creativity, and non-exploitation. It suggests that while patriarchal systems inflict deep wounds, there is a possibility for healing and creation outside of its confines—offering a vision of empowerment that does not perpetuate cycles of harm.

    

Photographs

We weren't supposed to take as many photographs

It was not in Nature's design 

to recall ourselves at 8 years

or 80.

It was not fated 

to be reminded of his face 

Hers

Ours, not as ugly as we thought at 25

It shouldn't be so easy that

un-summoned they invade 

our screens, like dogs

Darting in front of cars

without warning

Or prophecy 

It was meant to be a forgetting, this existence

of love and lesions

So we might string each day

Into a necklace of last days

So that each breath carrying it, this existence

became the soft touch

deep sigh

and last look

Before we turned away

See, if there were so many photographs

How would we say goodbye

And live

Critique of my poem by ChatGPT (the fucking free version)

This poem is poignant and reflective, with a strong meditation on memory, impermanence, and the modern abundance of photographs that alter how we process life and loss. Below is a critique that focuses on its strengths and areas for potential enhancement:

Strengths:

1. Theme: The central theme of memory's role in life and how photographs disrupt the natural forgetting process is beautifully original and thought-provoking. It makes the reader consider the paradox of preserving versus living.

2. Imagery: The poem uses evocative images, such as "a dog darting in front of a car" and "a necklace of last days," which are vivid and elicit strong emotional responses.

3. Tone and Mood: The poem captures a contemplative and almost mournful tone, which suits its theme well. The pacing and phrasing invite the reader to pause and reflect.

4. Structure: The lack of rigid form complements the poem's meditative nature, giving it an organic flow that mirrors the unpredictable process of remembering and forgetting.

5. Philosophical Depth: Lines like "It was meant to be a forgetting, this existence" and "How would we say goodbye / And live" carry a philosophical weight, prompting the reader to ponder life's ephemerality.

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Areas for Improvement:

1. Clarification of Ideas: While the poem is richly layered, some lines might benefit from slight refinement for clarity. For example, "Or prophecy" feels abrupt and could use more contextual grounding to tie it firmly to the surrounding imagery.

2. Consistency in Metaphor: While the metaphor of the "necklace of last days" is striking, it contrasts sharply with the digital, modern image of "invading screens." You might consider weaving a more cohesive thread between the natural and technological elements.

3. Pacing: The line breaks and punctuation sometimes feel uneven. For instance, the abruptness in "Hers / Ours, not as ugly as we thought at 25" creates a slight jarring effect that might distract from the poem's reflective flow.

4. Title Connection: The title, while intriguing, could be slightly more evocative or better tied to the central tension of the poem. For instance, referencing memory or forgetting directly might make it more impactful.

5. Resolution: The closing lines ("How would we say goodbye / And live") are strong but could be expanded slightly to deepen their emotional resonance and tie the poem together more conclusively.

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Suggested Revisions:

1. Consider replacing "Or prophecy" with something more visually or thematically aligned, such as "Or premonition."
2. Explore a title that directly reflects the poem's core idea, such as The Weight of Memory or Too Many Photographs.
3. Revisit the pacing in sections like "Hers / Ours, not as ugly as we thought at 25," to see if the break enhances or disrupts the poem's rhythm.
4. You could expand the idea of photographs "invading screens" by elaborating on the emotional impact of these digital interruptions.

Overall, the poem is a compelling exploration of memory and the existential tension between preservation and impermanence. With some polishing, it could be even more powerful and cohesive. Would you like help revising specific sections?

Hindsight is 20/20

They say you always know in your gut.

Red flags, always visible.

Sure

                    but then

I heard Death whisper in my ear

"I will come for you.

Won't say when. Or where.

Go live."

Upheaval - found in drafts from 2017

This is the year of things falling apart. This is the year of standing on the edge of things, looking back over my shoulder and wondering whether I should jump or not. This is the year of endings so quiet that only I can hear the door shutting. This is the year of rifts so loud the fissures seem to originate from my very core.
This is the year of panic.
This is the year of stretching thin and holding fort. Of not knowing where next month's rent will come from. Of feeling the imminent death of loved ones in my bones.
This is the year of being smiled at. A lot. 6 year old, 10 year old, 14 year old grins. Toothy grins, sweaty grins, book-seeking 'please help me ma'am' grins. 'Please read us one more story' grins. Life giving grins.
This is the year of fighting & holding ground. 

Published on

6/21/17 7:44 AM

Go Through It To Get Through It

To wake up as if everything is normal, good even, and then have it hit you like a ton of bricks. It doesn’t come with words. I wish it did. Words you can negotiate with, words you can reshape. It invades like an oil spill, rising from your feet, past your thighs, to assault your gut, restrict your throat, grip your heart and settle like thick molasses under your skull. Black sludge overwhelms you and all you can do is surrender. You want to stay in bed forever. The thought of food churns your stomach. 

You don’t want to die but could life itself stop for a while?

You're not 25 anymore. Or even 40. You’re not someone who can be defeated by a man’s betrayal. But you’re not someone who can summon hope for the future quite as easily either. Everything tastes of rust in your mouth. Who knew that a heartbreak-in-progress would leave such an aftertaste?

***

I journaled everything. Every sweet lie, every contact made on skin, every misgiving and every gut feeling. I don't know if I learned anything from it. Resilience maybe? Maybe how to carry the scent of foreboding in every shared delight?

I would've walked the plank for you, K. I would've made egregious errors. I would've crossed the line for you, my love. I would've purged it all.

Your betrayal saved me. But please, no more. No more.

Ya should've seen the gym-bro images that popped up when I googled 'photos of walking the plank'

Conversations with Moumita in Jahanpanah

I had to enter the forest to find you, Moumita.

I had to leave the streets where men prey on us. I am ugly but I have these breasts, you see.

I don’t have breasts but I have this skin, you see.

I cover my skin from head to toe but I have this stare, you see.

I don’t stare but I have seven decades on me, you see.

I am 12 but I have this un-policed gait, you see.

I have eyes, teeth, feet, nose, mouth, hair, ears. I have nails, you see.

There is nothing you could have done, Moumita. I want you to know you lived bravely till the last second. Because when did being scared ever save us? There’s nothing we could have done for you either, Moumita.

And so I entered the forest to find you. I sang loudly so that you would hear me on the tops of trees, where they kiss and weave into each other. I looked up at the sky and then I looked at the wet moss below. You were everywhere and nowhere all at once. I think you were at peace. I think you were with me, your parents and everyone who loved, cried & raged for you, all at once.

The grace of god by which it was not-me, brings no comfort today, Moumita. Because, here in this forest as we walk together, you whisper into my heart that you actually are me. You are me in this forest. I was you in that seminar room. 

"How could you not be", you whisper from the highest branches of the trees I pass, "We are together in this aloneness now, Purnima. I will never not be a part of you. Don’t you know what my name means? Moumita - sweet friend."