You wonder if I’m worthy,
if my blood somehow asks to be worth less.
I can’t answer your questions,
you made me a child and any answers I give will be childish.
You think I don’t understand your fear
but I know it as the weight you place on my back.
I am not a brave man,
but be brave for me.
Sylvia Plath once desired to walk freely at night
but I want to walk freely in the daylight.
I want to stroll through trees
I want to walk between two houses
run down streets
stride past other walking people.
I want to walk under the sun
with my hijab on.