Dear God.

from you we all come and to you will we return.

up she goes…

being born into a razzamtazz that qualifies you to be what? So dead.
“and all she does is complain.”
while around you is the razzmatazz, and gory trash.
so while you rest in peace,
“she’s just a nice girl,”

“a pawn”
you, Mukhtar,Taslima,me,Nasreen,Zainab,Afroze, Shaista…we bear the pain and scrutiny

of harsh male authority
the legacies,
of fathers,brothers,uncles and husbands,

as they go about their semi-serious businesses.
We’re in a mess.

Harsh oblivion.
we crowd around your body.
up in smoke,
Died like you had to?

“Do you believe in destiny?”

I scowl.

My gut hurts.
I have no dignity left.
I retch, the food in my belly threatens to come out…

May Allah bring to my belly the fire and ice that bears women like you.

Lets not mourn yet.
there will be a thousand more of us, each stronger, braver louder and,
Aameen.

She leaves us behind,
Up, sheee goes.