Constellations
AYA NIMER
Illustration by Tala Abdulhadi (@catladydoodles).
A part of me wants to call our friendship a constellation that got torn apart. Maybe because we talked about astrology, maybe because we were both
cartographers of each other’s lives—mapping out our dreams on the skies before us.
Brilliantly— persistently—moving towards a better future.
Together we cleaned up the messes we’ve lived through and dusted them over the sky.
It held all our secrets, all our hopes, all our fears—and my god we had so many fears.
We had spent so much of our lives battling our erasure, our grief. And together we held each other up.
Brilliantly.
Persistently.
“girllll.”
girl.
***
You felt like my other half. When I was in doubt, you were assured.
When you wanted to plow through something, I brought up ways to pause.
We balanced each other.
When did it so happen that it became unbalanced?
When did the assurance morph into being spoken over?
When did the pauses make you feel held back?
***
Can I speak?
Can I tell you a part of me is so proud of you? You’ve found your voice amongst such chaos. You found you and it has never looked more perfect.
Can I tell you a part of me is grieving? Knowing that who you are and who I am are no longer one eudaemonic pair. That I want my life to go more slowly, more gently and I’m not sure if we fit in it anymore?
Can I tell you I found myself and I don’t know if I lost you in the process? Can I tell you this blossoming is staring devastation in the face and glaring at the loss?
Do I have to lose you?
***
I find myself on the edge of another cliff— these metamorphoses hurt
without you.
Knowing that loss is part of the change, I— feel… mistaken. I feel dishonored.
***
Dear God, these were the people I loved, did you have to take them away?
Dear God, these people were a part of me, did you have to rip them away?
Dear God, I am growing, and I am thankful, but does it have to be
without them?
Can I barter two meters of growth with my friendship back?
Can I create new metrics?
Can I determine— rather than settle on—
what’s best for me?
***
I miss us.
Through every inch of my soul, every meter of my growth—
I miss us so dearly.
Aya is a Palestinian writer living in Chicago. She currently works at The Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago and graduated from the University of Chicago in 2019 with a BA in Philosophy and an MA in Humanities.
Edited by Engy Ibrahim.