{"id":160,"date":"2020-10-02T03:25:02","date_gmt":"2020-10-02T03:25:02","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/?p=160"},"modified":"2020-10-02T03:46:34","modified_gmt":"2020-10-02T03:46:34","slug":"four-poems-by-nahyian-elias","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/four-poems-by-nahyian-elias\/","title":{"rendered":"Four poems by Nahyian Elias"},"content":{"rendered":"

Hometown in Bangladesh
\n<\/strong><\/span>cardamom-scented deep summer, a slack coyote through the plains, hungers\/I hear it hunting\/I hear me haunting\/open shuttering thatched huts\/coin-sized raindrops\/the evenings, lavender and moody\/gardenias wilting, their bodies hot\/I lick chili and salt clean from a plate\/my grandmother pours us two cold thin glasses of thick mango juice\/she was born there\/the rising heat stretching up to hug her, I think of comfort\/it creeps and sticks and shimmers onto my skin\/she laughs, rich and full of meaning\/the rickety red and gold rickshaw to her sister\u2019s home\/the rain now in phantom glass sheets\/I was born there, too\/I run in, a basket of guavas balanced on my elbows\/my grandmother\u2019s spotted wrists, each adorned with a gold bangle\/the soft underbelly of her arms, not seeing enough sun\/she doesn\u2019t like America\/she cries here\/home smells like jackfruit\/lime\/ honey\/in the morning the land is dry and barren again\/burnt hard from the heat\/the feet of the workers calloused and rough\/she sings\/the earth thirsts for the monsoon\/like there is something dark brewing in the roots<\/p>\n

Admitting the Dream<\/strong><\/span>
\nI was the girl with dirt on her feet,
\nrunning on ancient fertile lands.<\/p>\n

Uncontained, like the mouth of
\nthe flower parting and closing,<\/p>\n

wrinkling with the hour. I leave
\nmy womanhood somewhere, shell off<\/p>\n

the wizened skin, remove the coarse
\nbrine from my hair. Eat with my hands.<\/p>\n

Rinse the salt from the legs. The villagers
\nwatch me come home with dead mean<\/p>\n

only. The rest of the girls in the village
\nbecome wives while they are still young<\/p>\n

and I grow old and more terrifying and
\nmore beautiful. I wipe the blood clean.<\/p>\n

I knife my body like a sharp tooth, vacating
\nall desire, thinking of biting into fruit.<\/p>\n

I veer my want into the want, dulling my highs
\nand sleeping on the wet banks of the river.<\/p>\n

I was the girl with dirt on her feet, and they
\ntalk about me. I tore my way into the reach.<\/p>\n

Survival<\/strong><\/span>
\nIf you think about it, there are
\n.<\/span>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0only two ways the body knows
\n.\u00a0<\/span> \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0how to breathe.<\/p>\n

.\u00a0<\/span> \u00a0 \u00a0The first at the pulchritude of waking,
\nfidgeting with tender<\/p>\n

for mercy at the feet<\/p>\n

and then, with the mouth
\n.\u00a0<\/span> \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 settling for a bottom piece.<\/p>\n

.<\/span>\u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0I ripped at my brown skin
\nuntil I learned how quickly<\/p>\n

.\u00a0<\/span> \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 my skin knew to grow back\u2014
\nholding the weight of generational<\/p>\n

.\u00a0<\/span> \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 carnage. I breathe.
\nUnyielding like flame. Reeling in<\/p>\n

to take in the sun. Wishing away
\nwhite. Coaxing the planets
\ninto alignment during the Disease.<\/p>\n

.\u00a0<\/span> \u00a0 \u00a0I read somewhere that our cosmos intertwines
\nlike a baby in its mother, bleeding<\/p>\n

like one being. That would explain
\n.\u00a0 \u00a0<\/span> \u00a0our mutual tendencies to dream.<\/p>\n

It would explain why, then,
\nwe are in
\nand in everything, we are.<\/p>\n

Generational Curses
\n<\/strong><\/span>Hand me
\nthe cord to slit,
\nthat ancient
\nbinding thing<\/p>\n

Give me your gentle.<\/p>\n

Promise to throw
\naway the keys.
\nThrow away
\nthe haunted<\/p>\n

and scream for something<\/p>\n

new instead. Hunt for new bulbs
\nbut keep the roots intact.
\nWear the sari
\nin every color but red.<\/p>\n

Gasp into the void
\nthis time with a fearless
\nthundering heart.<\/p>\n

Gully the tides into new lands
\ninto unborn third spaces.<\/p>\n

Halt the machine.
\nGather the saffron and rose.<\/p>\n

Take what you want<\/p>\n

from it
\nthis time.
\nLeave
\nthe rest behind:
\nyou are allowed.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hometown in Bangladesh cardamom-scented deep summer, a slack coyote through the plains, hungers\/I hear it hunting\/I hear me haunting\/open shuttering thatched huts\/coin-sized raindrops\/the evenings, lavender and moody\/gardenias wilting, their bodies … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":162,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[66],"class_list":["post-160","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-poetry","tag-nahyian-elias"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/160","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=160"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/160\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":163,"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/160\/revisions\/163"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/162"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=160"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=160"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/chintasutra.com\/english\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=160"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}