Repotting an Orchid by Zuhra Malik

An orchid is the eldest daughter of refugees, uprooted in a stranger’s 
land. She changes her name and tucks away dresses adorned with mirrors 
and beadwork. Our ancestors were silversmiths. Here, the craft is dead. 
Here, the water doesn’t drape like silk from the spring. She learns not to take 
advice from everyone. Never let water sit. Add cinnamon to cure root rot. 
Place near eastern light. Marry someone we know, not a begana. He won’t 
leave like most men do. Everyone longs for love, or is it safety? Her body 
is displacement: fibroids and endometrial tissue live where they shouldn’t. 
There was no treatment, but the doctor suggested repotting. That summer, 
a miracle. She survives after the last flower dies. Isn’t that what it means 
to be an orchid? To live even after death.

Zuhra Malik was born in New York City and raised in Virginia. She won the 2024 Banyan Review Poetry Prize. Her work has previously appeared in KAIROS, Qafiyah Review, and Tinderbox Poetry Journal.

15 December 2025