Losing An Arm

I woke up yesterday

Brushed my teeth. 

Washed my face. 

Had my breakfast.

All with my left hand.

Because my right hand, refused to join in.

It said, my body was no longer needed. 

"This is the age of freedom. Let me go, and explore."

And my body was no longer needed. 

I cried. My right hand does not have eyes

If it did, it would have cried too. 

We bid goodbye, 

But I carried it, until it was time.

Lights, Doctors, Knives. 

It got attached to a new body, and I was left with a hole. 

Incisions, stitches, bandages.

And a lot of blood.

I bled, but I did not die. 

Nothing changed. My left hand learnt to do everything. 

Every morning, every day. 

I almost forgot I ever had a right hand. 

But it was never the same.

Fariya Rahman is a contributor to The Daily Star Books and Star Literature.