Daughters to Ourselves
by Sheniz Janmohamed
Seven stances against silence—
your hands
blessing,
offering,
dispelling
asserting
demanding
recalling
retreating.
soft drapes of crimson curve your face,
paradise gardens dot your skin.
We are sisters, you & I
Daughters of windswept deserts, where watery light plays
tricks on travellers
where shadows know our names even
in silence.
I peer into you
the way I search for
a semblance of myself
in this warped glass of time.
They say there is a veil between us
but this chador is a door
into a deeper knowing
our hands have known these beads before
they were strung—
inheritances stitching themselves
into flowers that
bloom
Pale yellow
stars
lined
with threaded
gold
follow the hemlines to
wild tulips, jasmine, markhor
the scent of deodars winding its
way into the fabric
of our present—
presence
I will bring
pipal leaves, acacia, armfuls of desert grass
Let’s weave a tapestry
of our kinfolk to line the
walls of our hearts with
this mirrorwork
requires refraction
reflection
remembrance—
a zikr of looking
and looking again.
Here we are,
facing to face
what is effaced
Daughters of tribes
known and unknown,
learning how to be
Mothers to ourselves.
