Summer Religion

Sweat, sticky skin.

Water. Juice. Soda. Ice.

 Hoping for one; just one breeze.

Jim said stay in today but I can’t hell has called me in.

So I go.

Corner boys,

Dope fiends, alcoholics, old creeps.

The stares,

The whistles,

Grabbing of the elbow,

 Honking vehicles.

Oh how I wish I had a khimar and a hijab to cover me.

So they won’t see my face and figure.

It’s like they never seen legs and shoulders before.

I walk with shame as if all of these eyes are Allah’s.

I desire to be covered but to much will cause to faint.

What do I do? Do I cover up like the Muslims? Or

Do I let these strangers give me these judge mental looks?

I’ll choose the second one for my bible tells only judgment that

counts is God.