loitering within the distance,
I wonder if she watches me behind the bushes,
seeing all that is my happiness and pain,
wonder if she notices my scars, the tear in faces
every blue vein that plasters my body,
webbing across my olive skin,
slim figure, short hair, black brown hair,
sharp nose, plump lips,
I wonder what she see’s,
nothing past the image,
all outerwear, because for her image relies on what covers it
so I might as well strip it away,
that there is more than life than clothes, to modesty,
strip it all away and find the mind that trembles,
find the mind that is hidden,
a whole world exists behind the temples that are Malanghi
and that this body merely exists in hope to self destruct,
we just are here to maintain here,
surely her religious self see’s that?
Oh Father, up above,
Won’t you show her?
That there is more to life than the hijab that is woven onto her skin,
like a mask to protect her from the death of her husband
That there is more to life than religion,
For you are the one that spoke that there is Deen and Dunya