I don’t have anything here

Not of mine own earning or hand 

Except the blanket my sister and I shared 

But I sillily hope that if I leave it behind 

someone will cherish it 

Remember my sister and 

I 

walk out bared handed and hollow

A vessel to cart to its next home

We blind fold ourselves 

lest the Light ambush us again 

I am empty 

I am nothing 

I have nothing 

I have emptied 

Myself of all dreams I once harbored 

Lest my nana and sister come to take me away 

Lest I fail again to rise to the living’ standards 

A vessel carted to unfamiliar territory 

I walk out empty 

Hope that someone cherishes the sacrifices of my family 

feels like a withered wish from ages ago

Faint as the silhouettes beyond my blindfold

Except for the smell of my sister and I 

Nothing of mine is within my own hand 

I don’t have 

anything 

—-

Invisible chains are closing in

Echoes rattling in my head as we step closer

Once I’m in there 

I’m theirs and theirs alone 

They do not let me in to the terry room

I wait outside 

Still blindfolded but I can sense them 

Eyes sticking to me like melting sugar 

Funny how the attention I once held as sweet feels disgusting 

Coats my skin in silence

Sliding down slippery and abrasive 

Rubbing me the wrong way every second their gazes linger 

They know 

They know I should have died

They know I should’ve been the one 

They know I should have died

They know 

Hands grabs my arms

Stay still 

Quiet

Shush 

Don’t make a sound 

The sounds 

Ears twitch at the dozens of breaths I count 

Fabric swishing as feet shifted 

The silence says enough 

Nana once said I was natured hewn 

Rough as the bark that people use to create carvings

And unpolished gem…

In other words I’m ugly 

I’m ugly and nothing will ever change this 

My almond shaped eyes were completely black without a fleck of color

My hair forever stuck at the length of my shoulders 

My nose too wide 

Ears far too big

My birth marks blended with my skin too much 

I was as unsightly as they come 

And whoever is forced into the union will have the pity of all 

Blood of Fatimah…

I gently pry the hands off of me to present myself

Pulling my hair to the side

I bow so all see my neck

The blood of Fatimah greets you…

“House of Kashif, is she acceptable?”

Silence greets me in turn 

They speak mind to mind then

A hint of mockery and chill in the air 

The chains can no longer rattles 

“Let the exchange commence.”