Baba: My Father

My father’s eyebrows are

the wings of birds

flying into the horizon.

Only when my father is mad,

they become like my mother’s.

Now that we’re moving,

from Pakistan to the United States of America,

they stay inverted.

Nana Abu

The father of my mother,

Nana Abu,

has two toes on his left foot

that hug each other

one a little in front

of the other

one a little behind

the other

that I call

hugging toes.

Even with his

hugging toes,

my grandfather does not really

give out hugs.

But when Nana told him

that we were moving,

his tree arms reached out,

long and loving limbs

gave me a side hug.

Asna

Is the tallest in the class,

taller than the boys,

taller than Mrs. Zakaria even.

I am the smallest in the class,

smaller than the teacher,

smaller than all the other boys and girls,

but when I am with Asna I am the loudest.

So Mrs. Zakaria tries to move my seat

far

from Asna.

Now that I’m moving,

my seat will be very very

far.

Now is Mrs. Zakaria happy?

Last Day of School

I make my eyes hard

scoot my chair

next to Asna

close the space

all the way

no inches left

not even a millimeter.

I look around

and dare Mrs. Zakaria

to say anything.

She doesn’t.

Asna

Asna is my friend.

Not just any friend.

Not just a good friend,

but a best friend.

Asna,

who has a new baby sister,

says

but you have to

be here

but you have to

see her grow up . . .

Have

Have you

Have you ever

Have you ever said

Have you ever said goodbye

Have you ever said goodbye to

Have you ever said goodbye to a

Have you ever said goodbye to a best

Have you ever said goodbye to a best friend?

Visiting Grandmothers

Guilt slaps

the soles of my feet

when I run up the marble stairs

to the mother of my mother,

Nana’s room.

Then I walk slowly

to Dadi’s room.

Dadi

When I tell

the mother

of my father

goodbye,

she doesn’t wish me

a safe trip

a happy life

lots of love.

Instead, she asks me my name.

Seeds of Hope

My grandmother Dadi may not know my name,

but every morning,

she scoops seed into her

palms that are

lined

lined

lined

and she scatters it

round the garden.

The birds are remembered.

When she’s not looking,

I scoop a handful of seeds,

knot them tight in my dupatta.

I will pack these with me,

take them with me,

feed the birds there,

feed them

for her.

Nana

When I tell

the mother

of my mother

goodbye,

she hugs me so tight

holds me so long

my eyes feel hot.

She is lucky.

She gets to stay.

Her roots spread deep

and don’t have to be uprooted

like me.

Did you know nasturtium flowers

don’t like to be uprooted?

Their roots don’t like new soil.