The baby meets her body for the first time
A cloak, as layered as a sky, meets a fine, delicate ballerina in salmon-pink ballet shoes.
The half-knit shadow, the sugar-plum fairy twirling in warm white light.
The meeting takes place between the two in the baby room at the Holy Family Hospital. I eavesdrop
and hear lifestyle tips exchanged in quiet.
This dark, ghastly guardian speaks to the baby in a low, hushed voice, with baby showing her
focus with a yawning chasm.
Tip number one: eat air with a grain of sand for I like to retrace footsteps. Tip number two: drink a
hot, simmering pot of vapourous juice as I like to see my veins popping out during the rain.
Tip three: start with soft rompers, rock the hip and trendy and sigh with woollen open backs as I like
to believe I have eclectic tastes. Don’t yell, cry like the ocean waves hitting the shore.
But loudly. Just mark your presence. I know you are currently in economic crisis for definitions and
words. Let me share the basics: Air is a hard-hitting slap of the wind, rain is a nature’s pat.
Waves are relentless curves in motion. That’s it for today. I shall meet you more often now that you’re
with me. In me, Ha-ha. Let’s doze off now.
I watched the two drifting off. It was quite late. When I looked at my watch, it was 52,5600 days and
3,15,36000 seconds.
Fizza Abbas is based in Karachi, Pakistan. When she feels the need to harm herself, she writes a poem and submits it to journals to enjoy the grief of rejection.
