# MATHEMATICS: TRY AND CALCULATE ME

## by NAZEEFA AHMED (Canada)

## Issue 2.3 December 2020

## Audio: Nazeefa Ahmed reads

Mathematics: try and

calculate me. Determine

the set values of my

symmetry.

Mathematics: solve algebraically,

the coordinates forming my

parabolic anatomy.

Mathematics: prove me

with your trig identities, and

try to figure out

the complexity of my

geometry.

Mathematics: follow your

order of operations, your

methodical foundations, and

place a definition beside

my identity.

You, derive logic from chaos, and

reason from digits,

find limits contained in one-tenth of a minute;

angles from slopes, and

side lengths from tangents.

But

your obsession with accuracy, your

perfectionist mentality,

fails to interpret the vastness of

my personality.

You, look at me

with frustration, only seeing an

unsolved equation, so

you restrict my domains, and

quantify my range, and

graph my inequality so

my values may never change, and

bound my beauty between greater than and less than;

you look at me and see someone to solve, to prove, to sketch, and

you try to classify my incongruities

by using probability to predict my inconsistencies.

You may illustrate and extrapolate,

and verify after you evaluate,

but your rational mind canâ€™t stretch far enough

to reach

my infinity.

You, desperately try to explain,

where my parabola is on your Cartesian Plane, but

Mathematics, I

am still the unsolved variable to your

erroneous equation,

my solutions having

no constant definition.

Mathematics, my values are beautifully miscellaneous

but you just call them extraneous, because you

fail to understand that my beauty wasnâ€™t planned.

It canâ€™t be plotted point by point on your stern command.

Your maximums and minimums will not sway where I stand.

Mathematics, you

describe me by rearranging digits from zero to nine, but

the square of my values blows up your calculator every time.

With the real number system,

I cannot be confined.

Mathematics, you may try to

bound me in a right-angled triangle with

ninety-degree vision, and

Pythagorean precision, but

aÂ² and bÂ²will never equal cÂ²

because the hypotenuse

continues,

curves

and points, telling me

that I require no proof to become an identity,

that I am unpredictable, thriving in my spontaneity,

that my beauty is too massive for you to try and

calculate me.

So mathematics,

please try,

and calculate me.

Nazeefa Ahmed, age 17, is a high school creative writer and spoken-word artist who loves the art of written language more than life itself. She is a child of Bangladeshi immigrants currently living in the snow and slush of Calgary, Alberta. This piece represents her logical and emotional personalities and her attempt at reconciling these two extremes.