Ariana Karim

Every Sunday is for my Grandmother 
Since I was young, daily calls and weekly visits 
I sometimes wonder when these routines will leave gaps 
When all that will be left of her is what’s in her cabinets 

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Before that time comes, I must give her what she’s given me 
A chance to live how I want in exchange for sacrificing her life
There’s nothing I own that could repay this debt 
There’s nothing I buy that will leave her satisfied 

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She tells me she doesn’t need anything 
All she wants is for me to stay near 
We both are in a race, waiting to see which one of us leaves first 
Maybe she would like a teacup, red, blue, green, or clear

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I don’t really know her
We don’t know one another’s language
I don’t know what she likes and dislikes 
What her favorite patterns are, maybe something vintage

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I will never know if she’s happy
If this is the life she wanted to live
She will lie to me if I ask 
To ease my guilt, what more can I give? 

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If she weren’t thinking of me and generations ahead 
She wouldn’t have left everything she did 
If I could speak to her when she was my age 
She probably wouldn’t have had a kid 

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How I miss someone who hasn’t left
And mourn someone who isn’t dead 
And admire someone I’ve never met 
And understand someone who should’ve never fled