Senjuti Gayen Is

By Senjuti Gayen

It is a bold thing to acknowledge who you are. I emulated the poem “Ishle Yi Park Is—” by Ishle Yi Park. Her openness inspired me to write honestly about my identity.

Senjuti Gayen Is—
A story to be told. 

Moonlight pouring through a large window, filling a library. 
Hermione Granger's biggest fan. 
A mess. WIth wild waves of hair highlighting that particular
    quality.
An enigma. Her favorite word.
The last breath you take before diving, the one you fill
    yourself with.
Crimson lipstick staining lips.
Hungry and ambitious. For a few pomegranate seeds, and a bit
    of power.
A piano key pressed accidentally. 
Lost. She can't find her map. She had it a few seconds ago.
A curious cat, not yet killed.
The arrangement of a few words, ink pooling at the tip of each 
    letter.
A well of existential dread; don't fall in.
Trying to write her truths. She wonders, What is the 
    truth?
The wind whispering when the world has hushed. 
The sharpness of paper, the bead of blood that builds when it
    slices.
Afraid of being a mistake personified.
The slinking of a shadow, disappearing into the night. 
An action potential on a nerve cell.
An eternal soul. She believes in reincarnation, in the idea of 
    living once, and then again. 
Purnima: full moon in Bengali. Her unofficial middle name.
When the sun melts into the sky: the light of the evening. That's
    what Senjuti means, after all.

Sensitive Gayen Is—
A story not yet finished.