my mom presses her fingertips to her eyelids,
as though helping them carry the weight
of always having to be patient.
“why was I given such difficult, such picky daughters?”
I don’t know how to tell her
that she is lucky to have daughters who care more about their happiness
than being wives.
daughters who care more about love
daughters who understand they are not life vests,
(not made to save any man)—
they are the ocean,
immense and deep and lovely,
worthy of drowning in.
we are girls who refuse to pale in comparison.
we are girls who vow to never be the moon,
to never feed off another’s light.
we are stars,
“come shine with me.”
Ayah Elbeyali is a young weaver of words living on the East Coast of the United States. She is a student studying political science, philosophy, and creative writing, with a fondness for Russian novels. She enjoys good coffee, good books, and better company.