The Tinkle of a Scar by Praniti Gulyani (16, India)

[Content warning: childbirth, domestic abuse.]
​
step 1, let the midwife's hands 
map the expanse of your courage 
let your courage crumple 
beneath her fingertips till
 it dusts her palms 

step 2, spread your legs and
let her fingers trace a map 
into your womb
a map with entwined roads 
and dusky forests and silent seas

---

step 3, push when she tells you 
all the determination that clouds 
the chambers of your being
tighten your toes, curve them, curl them as your toenails dig into 
the soles of your feet 
push, push, push

occasionally, you may hear 
the scars that adorn
your armbands of bruises 
tinkling, almost jingling 
like the tassles 
on a teenager's bracelet 

step 4, let her hands dive 
beneath the covers, like 
free willed wanderers
and let her lift this flushed-cheek 
something from 
between your legs 
let her wipe the blood, your blood
that adorns its forehead 
let her wrap its infant nakedness 
into a bright, pink blanket 
and then, let her tell you 
that it is a girl 

step 5, hold this bundle 
of feminine newness to your heart
and if she squirms, tell her not to 
because that's not how a girl
should behave, for good girls 
are patient, they sit still

lift her tiny arms, and touch 
the dimpled innocence of 
her skin, your hands quivering 
and with motherly foresight, 
you assign positions for her 
armbands of bruises
for you are aware that
 no girl's arms can be girl's arms 
without them, and then suddenly 
you think about the tinkle 
of the tassles of scars 
that shall soon hang from the 
armbands of bruises 

and you wonder, as you look
at this bundle of newness 
will she be able to hear 
the tinkle 
of a scar?

​