By Mahnoor Khan
Like warm laughter,
The kind that wrinkles your eyes as they smile, and
Lifts your spirits higher,
“Mah” is spoken softly from the heart.
Like the glowing orb in the night sky
That washes over the soul with tranquility;
The “ou” in “Noor” prolongs itself
The way divinity does in the daytime.
Yet, you’re there, but not entirely.
I explain myself again, smiling
As I firmly step down on my frustration.
“It’s sung with joy in your voice,”
I croak as moisture invades the surface of my skin.
“Please say it with grace.”
You laugh as the letters fall flat on your tongue, and
Each syllable echoes deeply out of tune;
My name is no longer mine.
I calculate a reluctant decision:
In exchange for a new identity
I will scour my ties to my language and history.
Sacrificed for less expressions,
With furrowed eyebrows and anxious interactions,
I say now “I am only the fraction of light,”
But that was never my name.
Riadh Magazine 
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