Long Distance

Poems

It was only when I saw you again that I understood how broken I’d been

I hadn’t seen you since the last full moon, every phone call we had turned violent with frustration

So in the unwanted absence of you I’d gone into survival mode

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Heartbreak like this make me yearn for comforts I never even had

The urge to bask in my motherland’s South Asian sunshine and feel warm rainwater splashing down my back

Elders calling me their child in Urdu, sending me to sleep with head massages laced with coconut oil

Bare feet, long braids, eating food on the floor with my hands

Heartbreak that makes me want to start again in my mother’s footsteps because starting afresh in my own shoes won’t be enough to make me forget

Heartbreak that makes me wish I wasn’t here

So I start to daydream about not being here

Not being dead

But being reborn in the country that flows through my veins

Then I’d never have met you

And I can imagine I wouldn’t ever have to know what it feels like

To be heartbroken like this

 

 

 

 

 

Take Me Home

Poems

He Came In The Dead Of The Night

Thinkpieces

It was the dead of the night, and Maria was dead to the world. Her legs sunk into the mattress, the weight lifted away, her mind finally tranquil when the first pebble hit her bedroom window. The cul-de-sac she lived on was quiet; a safe space away from the city, the throng of trees a shelter from the concrete jungle that her days played out in.

My First Love Broke Me

Thinkpieces

The first time I fell in love, I thought it would be forever. We had kids names planned and I had our futures mapped out in my mind. He was the first man to meet my parents – in all my twenties so far, I haven’t met another man worthy of the honour. But it became unhealthy – or maybe it always was, and I just never saw it – we loved each other obsessively, aggressively and more dangerously with every day that passed.

What I Wish I’d Written: Mikala Monsoon

Miscellaneous

I wish I wasn’t an anxiety ridden introvert – I’d host a monthly salon, where all my favourite creative voices from the internet and beyond could have a meeting of minds. We’d change the world if we shed the doubt that mundane, relentless adulthood has a way of beating into us. The benefit of expanding your emotional and creative intelligence has become so underrated in a world of capitalism and rushing to work and scrolling through an endless sea of digital nonsense and never having time for anything because we’re all oh-so-busy competing to be the most productive – but what are we doing it all for?

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A perception of South Asian women has lingered

That they are inherently submissive, naive, hidden from the world behind dupattas and burkas

But I look to the women of my bloodline who arrived before me

Audacious, uncompromising, unbearable to the men who don’t want to hear them

Bold looks, big dreams, words armed with wit

It’s dangerous

Some will try and bring you down to earth where they want you to belong

But you are flying, dazzling, undefeated

Your mother brought you and my mother to a cold strange land for a better life

And as your necklace rests on my chest I remember

To never compromise, to never bow my head in submission, to be free

As we laid you to rest, the birds were flying above

And I just knew

You were flying with them

 

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To The Women Of My Blood

Poems