My name, a beautiful paradox,

a word that describes me

and yet one that does not define me.

Strangers become acquaintance,

And then my friends,

But why does this journey starts with my name?

Wherever I go, whomsoever I meet,

First what they ask from me, is my name with the greet.

It does not project who I am or who I could be,

Simply, a word that my parents chose to label me.

I asked them once, why Mia and not Aishling,

The answer I got “it does not have a nice ring”.

How so, my name that people use to address me with,

Is not something which I relate with?

Cheerful, creative, bubbly and happy

Some words that actually describe me,

But not the ones with which people know me.

I feel like a stranger with my name,

As if we don’t belong to the same.

It does not give me a sense of belonging

Rather a longing

For my body reacts to a title

That my heart refuses to undertake.

When I die this label will rest heavy on my soul,

As kind, a loving person comes after my name on the gravestone.

By:

Nandini Gupta

1B, BA (JMC)