PHOTOGRAPHS OF HOW IT WAS

PHOTOGRAPHS OF HOW IT WAS VS. HOW IT SHOULD’VE BEEN

POETRY Lameese Badr

Trigger Warning: Sexual abuse

i am seven a body on top of mine too dark to see

i am seven a barbie in my hand and a sleepover is just a sleepover

i am eight a hand inside my green skirt this time it is not too dark too see this time it is daylight this time he looks into my eyes asks how the family is i smile i look at where the hand is i don’t ask him to stop

i am eight my cousins and i playing in the street and i don’t hate the color green yet

my mother in a nightgown an ocean apart from everything she loves her eyes frantic her home burned down a husband still inside and a Saudi policeman telling her to cover up

my mother a golden tea set henna on her hands and legs flaunted never covered laughing with her mother and sisters

the last time i held him my back slumped, knowing it was the last time his tight grip on my back never knowing it was the last time

henna on my hands and legs gold on my wrists grandmother holding our heads al-adil wa al-zain in the background our smiles wide enough to erase this family’s prejudice my mother holding you like a son never like the one who couldn’t fill her daughter’s shoes

the last time he held me his eyes hollow, knowing it was the last time mine glowing with oblivion

a field of sunflowers i am twirling with all the women inside of me you love them all and we are not too much for you this time

*al-adil wa al-zain: a song played during Jertik, a traditional Sudanese ceremony where the older women gather to bless the newlyweds through rituals