i don't remember being small by Momena Khan
i don't remember being small
Momena Khan
i was sitting beside her, my not-sister. we were eating oranges and she was laughing with her whole mouth open like joy had never betrayed her. i held my fruit too carefully, too clean, trying not to let the juice run down my wrists.
she said, you never eat like you're hungry. i said, i don’t think i am.
i don’t remember being small. there are photos of me, hair sticking out in all directions, one sock off, holding a stick like it was a sword. i must have been wild, once. i must have screamed and reached for things. but the memory of that version of me has been folded up so many times, the edges have worn off. i only know her through photographs.
i used to think gentleness was my personality. it took me ten years to realize it was fear.
when i was twelve i stopped raising my voice. stopped correcting people when they said my name wrong. i learned the art of shrinking, i mistook stillness for safety. but safety is not always safe. sometimes it is just hiding in better lighting.
she said, you can take the last orange. i said, you can have it. i always say that. i always let them have it. but i wanted it too. i did.
i think i’m just waiting for someone to notice.
i think i’m just waiting for someone to say, take it.
i think i’m just waiting to be small again.
More from Momena Khan ↓
- @still.in.my.d4afts_ on Instagram
Mentioned in this episode:
Write After: National Poetry Month with One Poem Only
Write After is a way to encourage poets to listen and write, and use National Poetry Month to highlight how listening to poetry makes us better poets. I know I write the best when I’m surrounded by beautiful poetry–it’s part of the reason I created this podcast, and I want to encourage others to share this practice. We'll get started in April. You can share to #WriteAfterOPO.
