The last shreds of her cocoon linger, drawing blood as it breaks, the pain as fresh as that first burst so many decades ago,
her wings are almost free,
but she keeps looking back at the safety of her casings:
yearning to be free, yearning to crawl back into the warmth of her former self
Split in two—two halves of one.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.
When I think of Indian Aunties, I think slightly overweight, always dressed in saris or floor length night gowns from the eighties, and most importantly
She sees the curves of her body from top to bottom. Some are pleasing, some annoying. Images of beauty scroll past her mirror, they reflect
Croissants are the shit. One cold winter day, as my students slowly filtered in before school, L came into my room and whispered: “Would you