Aunty Nor

Farrah Lucia Jamaluddin

“If you are not a little bad from time to time
how can you learn to be a little good?”
my aunt would tell me as I soaked her
robe with my tears. I can’t remember what
I had done, but the guilt was heartbreaking.
Her teeth were stained with chocolate and tea,
her hair a mess of gold and black. She kept company
with weak men and strong birds, righting wrongs, wronging rights.
My mother tolerated her with a patience
only the power of filial ties could provide,
my aunty was a force worthy of thunderstorms.
She liked the warmth of her familiar sun,
But she greeted wind and rain all the same.