When you(we)'re small

When you’(we)re small 

by third year Ostara Maharaj

I feel small on days where it’s raining outside 

and my skin feels too loose for my bones 

I am fifteen, 

wondering what “petite” means 

and how to get there

I feel small when people look me up and down and ask me 

“where I’m from”- 

I come from spices and warm colors 

and dances in circles that I protect dearly with my heart- 

but just for one, 

guilty second- I am eleven, 

wishing for lunchables 

I feel small when I cry 

The child inside me recognizes the creases and folds that spread

through my face and slowly fill with salty water 

I feel small when I talk too much 

When peoples’ gazes say “shut up” 

I feel small rocking on a chair at a table 

I can hear Dad’s voice telling me to stop

I feel small in the tingly place between consciousness and nap time

I feel small watching movies when the actors start kissing 

I feel small biting an apple (they never seem to get smaller)

I feel small licking ice cream off of a cone, racing against the way it pools on the edges 

I feel small jumping “on three” into the water 

I feel small when my toes wiggle into the sand at the beach

I feel small when I still don’t know what to do when people sing me Happy Birthday 

…to you 

It’s so strange how in the moment that marks getting older: 

Happy Birthday

my whole life both ahead of and behind me

to you 

when the candles are lit and the singing commences 

Happy Birthday dear..

 that smiling and waiting and swaying never changes 

Happy Birthday to you

I am wonderfully small