To Build a Home: Poetry and Prose

By Hinnah Mian

On learning that it's not love if it hurts you. On learning that abuse comes in many forms. On learning that home is found within yourself. On learning that self-love is the most divine love there is. On learning that building a home starts and ends with yourself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: May 1, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543928600

Hinnah Mian

Hinnah Mian is an award winning Pakistani-American poet and author of To Build A Home. Her debut book of poetry won the Silver Medal in Poetry in the Readers' Favorite International Book Awards 2018. She shares her work on @hennapoetry on Instagram.

Book preview

To Build a Home

Poetry and Prose

HINNAH MIAN

cover and chapter illustrations by Sarah Sklar

poetry illustrations by Emma Dooley

To Build a Home: Poetry and Prose

Hinnah Mian

Print ISBN: 978-1-54392-859-4

eBook ISBN: 978-1-54392-860-0

© 2018. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Dedicated to all those that were

given pain and told it was love.

Table of Contents

PART I: ON LOVING YOU

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE: THE REBIRTH

YOU KNOW ME SO WELL

THE ROOT OF THE ROOT

I AM A BELIEVER

LOVELY THINGS

SUNDAY MORNINGS

GREED

TO BUILD A HOME

A PROMISE

S’MORES

EARTHBOUND

CHAPTER TWO: THE AWAKENING

PROMISES

I AM UNBEARABLY HUMAN

GRAVE DIGGING

YOU DESERVE BETTER

I MISS YOU

YOU ARE A LOVE POEM,

PROGRADE

DON’T HURT ME

CHAPTER THREE: THE SLEEP

ON DROWNING

WHEN LOVE ALL BUT HEALS

A GAMBLE

HELLO GOODBYE

STOLKOHM SYNDROME

FROM BROKEN STRINGS TO A CONDUCTOR

LOVE ME BLIND

GAMBIER

LOVE IN WARTIME

PART II: ON LOSING YOU

CHAPTER ONE: THE SLEEP

HOW TO LOSE YOURSELF

INSIDE-OUT

LOVE IS BLIND

I LOVED EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOUR FACES

BATTLE SCARS

I’M ALL YOURS

ON NOT KNOWING HOW TO BELIEVE IN GOD

ON LEARNING TO LOVE A SHIPWRECK

ON TRANSLATING HIM

ALL NIGHT

A EULOGY FOR THE LOVE OF MY LIFE

CHAPTER TWO: THE AWAKENING

THE MORNING AFTER

HOW TO BE LOVED BY HIM

AN APOLOGY

VIRUS

LOVING YOU LIKE MY HOMELAND

IT ISN’T SUPPOSED TO BE THIS WAY

ON FINDING YOU IN BOTTLES AND BODIES

ON TRYING TO FEEL AGAIN

EVERYONE TASTES LIKE YOU

THIS DYSLEXIC LOVE

THE MESSAGE I’LL NEVER LEAVE YOU

YOU’RE A WRITER—LEND ME SOME WORDS

I’M SORRY THAT I FIGURED YOU OUT

THE ANATOMY OF HAUNTING

A SAD SONG

TODAY I LEARNED THAT I AM A BOMB

YOU’VE MOVED ON ALREADY

THE LAST I HEARD FROM YOU,

CHAPTER THREE: THE REBIRTH

OPEN LETTER TO ALL GODDESSES

EVEN MORE

YOU ARE GOOD ENOUGH

BIRDSONG

I WILL NOT CHANGE FOR YOU

YOU ARE YOUR HOME

GIVE ‘EM HELL

YOU DON’T EVEN DESERVE THIS POEM

WHAT I WISH SOMEONE WOULD HAVE TOLD ME

ENTER IT IN PEACE AND SECURITY

I AM THE ASHES

LEARNING TO LOVE BOMB-THREAT BODIES

THE REALIZATION

CONFESSIONS TO MY MOTHER

SOMEDAY I’LL LOVE HINNAH

AUTHOR’S NOTE

PART I:

ON LOVING YOU

But I love your feet only because they walked upon the earth and upon the wind and upon the waters, until they found me.

–Pablo Neruda

The first time you hit me, I didn’t feel any pain.

I mean, my back was against a wall, your fingers curled around my arm, the nails digging in to my paper skin. It hurt, but at first I didn’t feel the pain. I felt the fear of what this meant. Of what the watercolor bruises staining my brown skin meant. Of what the love I still felt for you meant. Of what the secrets I’d have to keep from my loved