A thought of you crosses my mind
never knew it would treat
my midday blues that wild.
Banished it in a blink of an eye
in less than a swift mo
the rose sway at the first light.

The day was long though
but gone before the rainbow
touches the butterfly.

Scurried to the night
back into the half veiled Niqab.
The waxing moon is on the open half
down the far-fetched sun's half eye.

When will you come by
before my eyes?

My hair is covered, my intellect is not.
My feet are covered, yet I'm still going places.

My ears are covered, my hearing is not.
My back is covered, yet I'm still standing.

You've imprisoned my tongue, my words will never surrender.
You've imprisoned yourself, yet I'm still trying to set you free.

being beautiful
in sight of my creator
is more fulfilling
than being beautiful
in the eyes of its creation

//

if a woman
drops her clothing
and shows what is
too precious to
be shown even on
film,

she has her miranda rights,
her indecent exposure trials
and ever dollar used to bail her
out of a cold cell were they offered
her a hospital gown

but she also has the
eyes that follow her up
the street, asking, begging
to touch
and if that woman says no,
or says nothing
than the woman still has

control of what is done
to her body,
control of every hand that tries to
pry away her god-given
right to be safe in her own skin

//

if a girl decides to
wear a short shirt,
or fishnet tights,
or bright lipstick

that costs anywhere from ninety-nine cents
to ninety dollars,
and she applies it with a heavy hand,
like her mascara and eyeshadow,
then she is still

human, she is still
a valid human being
who does not deserve
your time and voice
to call her a ****
or say something along
the lines of

don't go out looking like that
or you'll get *****
but **** is never,
ever, ever
the fault of the victim

//

if a woman
or girl
decides to cover her hair,
to abide by her
religion, the religion that
held the hands of every woman
in her family,
from sister to great-great-great-great-great

grandmother
she is not a threat
to our country
she is a member of our society,
a valuable and beautiful one, at that
who's culture can guide us
to be even kinder
in the name of god

and if a woman
or girl
decides to long sleeves
and a high-necked top
with a long skirt
alongside her hijab,

she is not matronly,
she is modest,
and modest is as beautiful
as a gucci crop-top
or a pair of sky-high louboutins

//

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

*there were men
who were there for us,
who fought for us,
and then now,
there is a man who will fight
us as we march,
so we need to be strong
and support each other,
remember the golden rule,
and know each of our gods
would want this for
our world

Outside one of Pittsburgh's many suburban malls
a middle-aged woman wearing a colorful hijab
held the hand of a little boy of about eight
as they walked past the entrance of a department store.
Three teenage boys leaned against a nearby wall.
One teenager wore a printed t-shirt of a confederate flag.
All three of the teenagers pointed at the woman.
They laughed with a roar of contempt
that exerted dominance over the sidewalk.
The little boy hugged that woman's leg.
He sobbed into the material of her long dress.
The teenager wrapped in the confederate flag,
he put his hands behind his head
and leaned back against the wall
in victory.

a tender fog
hides our view
of what might be
a face most beautiful

but we don’t know

as local laws are such
     that beauty only shows itself
to spouses predetermined
by the wisdom of the elders

who demonstrate to have
     no  understanding
of human wishes and desires

When they saw her walking on the streets,
They saw oppression, dehumanization, and inequality.
Whilst they oppressed her with their vision
She wore her cape of grace, her drapes of black chiffon
Which also covered her face
free from all the judgment regarding beauty and ideals

the world was threatened by her walk
Although her posture was humble
She still walked with queen like grace
For she was super women and her Abaya was her cape
Her Niqaab was her shield form the worlds disgrace
And her Hijab was the crown she wore with all her grace
And she was a true woman
A woman oppressed not by her faith
But by society's obligations
She IS a woman empowered,
Empowered by her faith.

No one came to my funeral
Yes, I am, very very dead
No one came to my funeral
Because they aren't right in the head.

No one came to my funeral
Only a couple close friends
No one came to my funeral
Just well wishes sent

No one came to my funeral
They left mom and dad all alone
No one came to my funeral
They just sat there at home

No one came to my funeral
Even though I'm dead
No one came to my funeral
Because of the hijab on my head