B-a-b

Baab

Curve, swoop up, space, curve again

Two dots below, short and sweet

I trace it with my finger, my pencil

On my skin and my tests

I mouth it slowly and quietly to soothe my nerves

To open my lungs like a door swung wide

Baab

Door

I wake up tired every morning but I am in a warm bed

I can’t bear the weight of responsibility

Striking me to the tone of my alarm

But it is not a siren

My Great Grandma knew the word baab

At five years old she ran through it

Holding tight to her sister’s hand

From Lebanon to France to the wide open door of America

At five years old her old life closes and a new door opens

She knows the word baab but she does not know what comes next

At age 18, I learn to write my first word in Arabic

B-a-b

Baab

Curve, swoop up, space, curve again

Two dots below, short and sweet

Sometimes waking up feels like sailing into a new country

When I would give anything to go home

But each day I learn a new word that my Sitto new

Shukran, Sitto

Tadhhabiin, adhhab

Shukran habibi

Each day I feel a little bit closer to the warm shores of Lebanon

Each day opens a new door to my history

And a new reason for my future

So when I wake before the sun and my first thought is

“You do not know what comes next”

I fend off the fear and make my next thought

B-a-b

Baab

And I know that not knowing what’s behind the door
Is the best reason to open it