Attention
Attention

My first act of attention was at 7 months within; I begged my mother to let me go…

by Roha Hena

Illustration by Sarah Chan

My first act of attention was at 7 months within

I begged my mother to let me go, kicking,

It was perhaps then she felt a jolt

Her belly round and swollen, protecting me from the outside

Stretching to make more room while I craved for the unknown

It was then, when she found out on a fall morning that I needed to come out

When the woman in the crisp white coat told her I had to be freed from the cage

At the tender age of 21 she wept

“Why?” she trembled, water dripping from her face

“Is my biology not enough? Am I not woman enough?”

For she had been taught when she was a little girl

That her worth depended upon her strength to bring children into world

The doctor consoled her between the fertile brick walls

Telling her that some children demand to see the world

My next act of attention was in mid-fall, tearing my mother’s belly and having to be lifted out

As I cried at my first breath of air

My mother sighed heavily

She endured so much pain from me

Her organs moved around to make space for someone that kept demanding more,

Someone who left marks across her body

She never imagined that a daughter could demand so much,

For she was told that women hide in shadows, don’t raise their voice and seldom demand attention

But in front of her was a girl crying to be heard, cradled in her father’s arms

My mother fell into unconsciousness

And in that moment my father decided to raise his daughter without a cage

To let go of everything imposed upon her.

Two decades later I run my fingers over her — my mother’s tender belly — asking what the jagged line across her stomach signified

She looks almost angry but laughs,

“It was your first act of attention.”
['Nuance Media']
['Life Lessons', 'Poetry', 'Culture', 'Feminism', 'Love']