About the writer: Ari Chattoo is an indo-caribbean student and writer born and living on the island of Trinidad and Tobago. She writes primarily of her experiences as a gen-z woman and as a Caribbean native. She’s interested in literature, language-learning and life, and has great hopes of publishing a novel. She can be found on Instagram at @ari_chattoo
this aching in my chest,
this effervescent wound i tend to laboriously,
it might be killing me.
in my childish instabilities,
i call to the trees to beg for guidance, for love, for a cure
go home, they say
i’ve had no other home but this one
and in this home,
the rooms are cold,
the lights are too dim,
the faucets leak and the acrid smoke of a thousand and ten burned bridges reaches out to suffocate with loving hands,
there is
no home
where i can settle
this ache persists,
and i think of damp grass and the rage of the ocean and hangovers hidden between bowls of soup, the melody of a seven-voiced love song,
i think of nights being unburdened,
the shine of a pisces moon,
the ache is baffled,
it soothes
in truth, i sought a home in you before this desecration of the heart— this aching, now i seek home in the earth,
bury myself whole in the dirt and beg for forgiveness,
i sing to the light in the trees and kiss the slow rush of the river
and in this new zero o’clock hour,
maybe i’ll be happy
"This piece was heavily inspired by the questioning on one's identity that comes with age and experience. Caribbean identity in particular is hard to quantify as the region is so young and still in development.A major facet of youth here is struggling to find a place amongst the intersections of immigrant cultures and
post-colonial society. To add to this, there is a certain quality of heartbreak (any and all kinds) that I find is best treated and healed by visiting and enjoying nature."- Ari