Notes From The Exclusive Club.... Poem by Arshia Qasim

I have learnt
to hold my grief
and not get drunk on it....
not let it cloud my judgement
or make me throw up
or blurt out inappropriate, insensitive remarks
about someone's disaster of a haircut....

I can (almost) mask my ineptitude for life
and small talk--
And still
peel oranges for my son's lunchbox,
give PowerPoint presentations,
tell jokes, receive guests, make meals, pay the gardener, book a flight,
break wind and laugh till the tears roll out of my eyes...

and those tears are no longer just from laughter,
as every tipping point
spills more than the intended content.

I can clean up messes, throw on new dresses
and pull myself
together again, quicker.
Save for the extra smiles
and
this poem.


Arshia
9.jul.26